


Abduction

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-30
Updated: 2003-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is abducted on the drive alone back to Denver. As Chris and Vin walk down the captive path they recognise the strong feelings they hold for each other along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abduction

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at ATF and has been especially written for Kap, Stacie, Kathy and Donna. Many thanks to Mog for creating this wonderful AU and for allowing anyone to play in it.

As Chris sat in his pick-up, staring along the deserted highway, he reckoned he could be forgiven the sudden outburst of frustration. He slammed his fists down hard on the steering wheel. It was not unusual for him to have to attend conferences outside of Denver but this was one of the few that was for supervisor level and above. It meant he was traveling alone, and as the conference was being held at Pueblo, it had seemed ludicrous to take an internal flight. He had decided the Ram could do with a decent run, so he had opted to drive.

"Big mistake."

His voice was husky with anger. The conference had been a complete waste of time - as usual - and he had been so eager to get on the road back home that he had ignored all the normal precautions. The thought that anything could possibly go wrong had never even occurred to him. Hell, he'd had the Ram over five months and it had seemed such a solid pick-up. He slammed the wheel again. He had been doing just fine, cruising along with the air-conditioning keeping him cool, when the engine had just cut out. No grating sounds, or shrieks or shudders. Nothing. Just an eerie silence as the Ram glided to a halt at the side of the dusty road.

Chris rested his head upon the steering column and sighed. He was maybe eight miles out of Pinon heading for Fountain, and he remembered passing a diner about five miles back, just before he had turned off the interstate onto this dusty old highway. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food, adding to his annoyance.

"Should have pulled in and grabbed some lunch."

He sighed and decided to check for the obvious before calling for help.

Chris hauled himself out of the air-conditioned cab, grimacing as the high temperature brought the sweat pouring from him almost instantly. He rolled up his white dress shirt sleeves, popped the hood and gave the engine a visual inspection but shook his head when nothing apparent made itself known. He tried fiddling with a few wires and tubes, checking they were secure, then moved back into the cab and tried the engine again. Nothing. He cursed in annoyance and picked up his cellphone from the main console, calling the operator and requesting a number for the closest mechanic or tow-truck company.

"Can be out to you in just over an hour."

"No sooner?"

"Sorry, just one man and I'm already towing this fella back to Pueblo. One hour, maybe a little longer. Best I can do."

"Sure, okay."

Chris sighed, running his hands through his dark blond hair from front to back. He had already been stranded here for ten minutes and not a single vehicle had passed in either direction during that time, so he really had no choice but to sit tight and wait to be 'rescued'. He replaced the cellphone then decided to check out the engine one more time for himself.

"Damn! Should have stayed on the damn interstate. Whatever possessed me to--"

Chris cussed as his fingers touched something that was too hot, bitterly regretting his decision to turn down Vin's offer of company on this trip. Vin would probably have figured out what was wrong with the Ram and gotten it started again in minutes. Chris smiled wryly as an image of Vin, head buried in the innards of the Ram, popped into his mind. He could visualize those agile fingers stroking life back into the car, could almost see those laughing blue eyes turn to him in triumph when the engine kicked over. He sighed. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted Vin with him, quite the contrary, but he could think of no excuse for the man's presence other than the sheer pleasure of being with him. It was a pleasure he had become far too fond of, and his growing dependence on their friendship was starting to make him feel uneasy.

It was affecting him in so many ways - this need to be close, to share the little things that happened in his day, to use Vin as a sounding board for both the frustrations and the ideas. Vin would let him rant away when something upset him, then would give him that gentle, almost mocking, smile that seemed to chase away his bad moods.

Chris closed his eyes and sighed again. He had not felt this close to anyone since Sarah... and it was this that made him uneasy. He had started to have dreams of him and Vin, touching and caressing, taking their friendship one stage further than he was certain either of them could tolerate.

With a hiss of annoyance at himself, Chris pushed thoughts of Vin away and leaned back over into the engine compartment, wishing he'd made more of an effort to study the basic workings of a car. The sound of another vehicle pulling up behind him brought his head up.

"Hey, mister. Gotta problem?"

"Yeah. Just went an' died on me."

Chris licked his lips, his eyes narrowing as he watched the large man climb out of the tan-colored Buick. There was something about this man that was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he found himself wishing he had kept his shoulder holster strapped on. The man gave him an odd little grin, the dark eyes flicking quickly over him from head to toe, appraising him in an unsettling way.

"Hey. Let me take a look. Hmmm... Don't look too good. Can I give ya a lift someplace?"

"Thanks... but no thanks."

"Well, I'll give it another check over. Ya never know what I might find."

Ten minutes later Chris was standing there confused, his innate sixth sense still rocking his system and yet the man had done nothing to warrant such mental agitation.

"Well lookey here. Reckon I can fix that."

The man went to the trunk of his own car and pulled out some duct tape and a small canister. He returned to the Ram and began to fiddle with something inside the engine. Against his better judgment, Chris found himself leaning forward, curiosity outweighing good sense.

He staggered back, hands flying to his eyes when the man sprayed something directly into his face. With eyes and nose streaming from the burning liquid, Chris was in no position to protect himself. He swung his fists wildly as the man grabbed hold of him, lashing out with his feet as well, but he was swiftly knocked to the sandy ground. A sharp blow to the stomach forced the breath out of him, one he had not seen coming because of the tears streaming from his burning eyes. The sound of ripping filled the air and his hands were seized and pulled behind him. He felt the stickiness of the duct tape being wrapped around them, effectively binding his wrists together. His shoes and socks were tugged off, and his pant legs were raised. Chris started to kick out at his assailant, still unable to see through the tears. His bare ankles were treated to a similar binding, the duct tape wound viciously around them. With no way of hitting back, Chris began to shout abuse at his captor but the appliance of several strips over his mouth muffled his cries.

He tried bucking against the hands that grabbed at the front of his shirt then tried passive resistance, letting his body sag, but the man was far stronger than Chris anticipated. He dragged Chris over to the Buick, popped the trunk once more and heaved Chris inside, returning moments later to throw his shoes and socks on top. Chris's final sight was of the dark underside of the trunk lid slamming down, cutting out the hazy blue of the sky and pitching him into darkness.

He heard the car start up and started to kick frantically at the inside of the trunk, ignoring the pain of the blows on his bare feet. The car began to move, the joggling ceasing as the car rejoined the highway. He closed his eyes, the tightness of the tears drying on his face making his skin itch, but at least the burning pain from the liquid had started to subside.

With the duct tape over his mouth, he was forced to draw breath into his lungs through his nose, but the incredible heat inside the trunk was making the air too thick and too heavy. Difficulty in gaining enough oxygen was making his head swim and he tried to focus on staying conscious, letting images of the past and present flood his mind. His last thought, before the lack of air and the stifling heat caused him to pass out, was of Vin Tanner.

-ooOOoo-

Martin Sommers frowned as his tow truck pulled up in front of the stricken Dodge Ram. The hood was open but there was no sign of the car's owner. He walked across, giving a yell, having decided the man had probably gone off the highway to take a leak.

"Hey there. Mr. Larabee?"

He waited but there was no answer. Sommers tried the Ram's door handle and found it unlocked. He stood back and frowned, gazing at the car in bewilderment. It was a beautiful vehicle - and it was fairly new. He checked around and saw signs of another car having been there, the tire tracks leading back onto the highway. Sommers took off his baseball cap and rubbed a hand through his hair. He could understand Larabee deciding to accept a lift to the nearest piece of civilization, after all, not many people used this stretch of road since they opened the interstate, but it didn't make sense that he had left this fine vehicle standing here unlocked and with the hood raised. Sommers opened the driver's door and peered inside, his eyes catching sight of an expensive laptop tucked away in the open center console. Sommers chewed thoughtfully on his lip and came to a decision that he hoped he would not regret. He returned to his truck and switched on the radio.

"Breaker niner. You there, Louis? This is Martin Sommers reporting a suspicious incident out on the old Highway paralleling Interstate 25 'bout 10 miles out of Pinon northbound. Do you read? Over."

'Read you loud and clear, Martin. Highway Patrol will be alerted and sent to your position immediately.' There was a long pause. 'Masters gives an ETA of 10. Over and out.'

The temptation to start work on the stricken Ram was almost overpowering but he had a feeling Jake Masters wouldn't look too kindly on that. Sheriff Masters would be concerned about ruining a crime scene - if there had been a crime committed.

Ten minutes later the familiar sight of a highway patrol vehicle pulled up behind the Ram. Sommers sauntered over to meet the sheriff.

"What's the problem, Sommers?"

"The owner, Larabee, gives me a call to say the Ram had broken down. Told him I'd be here in just over an hour. He said he'd be waiting here."

"Maybe someone offered him a lift."

"There was a car. Tire tracks heading north--"

"Then what's the big deal? Worried he ain't gonna pay ya?"

"What man would leave a car like this unlocked with one of those expensive computers sitting on show in the cab?"

Masters frowned and tried the door, finding it opened easily. It was not just the laptop that deepened his frown, it was the other personal belongings left behind: a cellphone, wallet, and jacket. Masters turned around, his gaze arcing across the open land to either side of the highway. There was very little for a man to hide behind but it would be easy to miss a prone body. He walked back to his patrol car, leant in and pulled out the radio mike. Moments later he had confirmation that another three vehicles were converging on the scene.

Masters went back to where Sommers stood by the Ram and steered Sommers away from the slight indentation of footprints and gouges in the ground, not wanting to destroy any more evidence at the scene of a possible abduction.

"What can you tell about this second set of car tracks?"

"I can tell you who manufactured the tires."

**********

Buck Wilmington was leaning back in his chair, just about to launch his latest paper airplane at an annoyed-looking JD. The plane left his hand, sailed silently through the air and struck JD on the side of his head.

"Buck! Cut it out!"

Buck smirked as JD gave him a dirty look before the hazel eyes dropped back to the screen to where JD was wrestling with a new piece of software. Before Buck could start on another paper airplane the phone called his attention. He picked it up, his voice smooth and professional.

"Wilmington." Unconsciously, he pressed his lips together in a tight line. "How long ago was this?"

Buck nodded his head and replaced the phone in its cradle. He looked up to see five sets of eyes focused on him. Josiah stood and came over to sit on the edge of JD's desk, his movement spurring the others into similar action.

"It's Chris. They found his car deserted just off interstate 25. There are signs of a struggle and the local forensic boys found traces of mace at the scene."

"Was the car forced off the road?"

Buck shook his head at JD's question.

"Seems the Ram broke down. Chris had called out a tow service but he was gone by the time the man got there an hour later. The traces of mace were found under the open hood. They reckon Chris and one other person were inspecting the engine when the mace was used."

Vin Tanner had been striding over to Buck's desk during Buck's little speech. He leaned over, hands plastered to the desk, until he could look Buck in the eye.

"Need to get out there. Now."

"You and me both, pard."

Buck rose to his feet and grabbed his jacket, watching Vin stride over to the coat rack and pull on his buckskin coat.

"You ain't leaving me behind."

"Me neither."

The chorus continued as each man stared adamantly at their second in command.

"Someone has to mind the store."

"Would you care to wager on that, Mr. Wilmington?"

Buck sighed.

"Hell, Chris ain't here to frown about it and I'm not stopping to argue. Let's get going."

The phone's strident ring filled the air again and Buck froze for a moment in indecision, tempted to let it ring on unanswered. He dragged a hand through his hair and picked it up.

"Judge Travis... Yes, we just heard the news." Buck's face took on a chagrined look. "Yes. We were about to..." His face brightened considerably. "Thank you, sir."

Buck looked at the expectant faces.

"Looks like me an' Vin got ourselves a helicopter ride out to the scene. You boys can follow on behind but one of ya better hitch a lift in case someone has to bring back the Ram."

A moment of frantic activity followed as the team gathered everything they thought they might need, including the prepared overnight bags stashed in the office in case of such an emergency.

Ten minutes later, Vin and Buck were waiting beside the rooftop helipad as the ATF helicopter landed. Buck watched as strands of Vin's wavy brown hair were whipped by the rushing air forced aside by the rotor, noticing the tension in the blue eyes. They ducked their heads and ran towards the cockpit, quickly jumping inside and giving the thumbs up sign to tell the pilot to get going. Vin and Buck pulled on headsets and conversed in terse sentences, outlining what each proposed to do once they reached the scene of the possible abduction.

**********

The rough rocking of the Buick brought Chris back to partial consciousness as his body was bumped around inside the trunk. One particularly deep pothole threw him up into the underside of the tailgate and he moaned beneath the strips of duct tape. The car lurched to a halt, the engine dying leaving only the ticking noise of hot metal contracting as the engine started to cool down. For a long while there was no other sound, then he heard the distinctive creak of the driver's door swinging open, and soft footsteps on sand getting louder as the driver approached the rear of the car. The trunk swung open, and Chris found his eyes watering again as the strong sunlight splintered the darkness. He squinted, unable to make out the features of the man looming over him but knowing from the silhouette that it was the same person who had attacked him.

A pair of hands reached in and grabbed at his shirt front, pulling him up from the bed of the trunk. He was dragged over the edge and dropped onto the sandy ground with a grunt, the air expelling from his lungs through his nose, landing awkwardly because of the tight bindings around his wrists and ankles. The man grabbed him under one arm and started to drag him towards what had to be an old line shack. Chris was hauled up the three wooden steps that led onto a rickety porch then dropped again as the man fiddled with the door. It swung open, creaking eerily from lack of lubrication, revealing darkness beyond. Chris was dragged inside, grateful to be out from under the harsh sun but afraid of what would happen to him now his abductor had reached this place.

The man dragged him to the center of the room and let go, giving Chris a hard, appraising stare before he walked out, leaving Chris alone on the hard, dirty wooden floor. Chris scanned the single room, hoping to find something he could use as a weapon. A grating noise preceded the sudden flare of light through one of the previously closed up windows, the rays picking out the dust that was dancing in the otherwise still air within the shack but revealing little else that could be of any use to Chris.

Another window was opened as the shutters were pulled back, the light streaming in to illuminate the far corner where a rough-hewn bed stood. Chris could see patches of fungus growing on the lumpy, stained mattress, and he swallowed hard as he wondered if those stains were dried blood. He felt his heart stop cold when he realized there were remnants of silver duct tape wound around the thick wooden posts that comprised the head of the bed frame. When his heart started again, it was beating fast, and he found himself drawing in deep, rapid breaths through his nose. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and he shook his head to try and dislodge some of the sweat-matted strands of hair that had become plastered to it.

Chris turned to the doorway as heavy footsteps were heard on the wooden porch and saw, again, the silhouette of a broad shouldered man on the threshold, back lit by the glaring sun outside. The man came forward and squatted down next to Chris, his rough, callused hand tipping up Chris's chin until their eyes met, green on brown.

"I expect you're wondering why I got you all trussed up like this. Why I done brought ya here." The hardened pad of a fingertip trailed down the side of Chris's face before tracing the line of his jaw. "Ya got purty green eyes... and such nice yellow hair." Strands of his hair were picked up and toyed with. "Makes me wonder what else is purty about ya."

That awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach came back as Chris contemplated the sexually charged words. He tried to kick out as the coarse, sun-browned fingers teased at the buttons on his dress shirt, slowly drawing aside the separate halves to reveal his bare chest. His writhing made it difficult for the man and, in obvious annoyance, the man grabbed the shirt and tore the rest open, the remaining buttons skittering across the wooden floor. Chris moaned in helpless rage as those fingers stroked over his skin, stopping only to tease at a nipple. When the man leaned over to swipe his tongue across the hardened nub, Chris arched up, snapping his head forward, his forehead catching the man on the bridge of the nose. Blood sprayed out as the man bellowed in pain and rage, falling backwards. Chris used the moment to try and gain his feet but it was almost impossible with the tight binding around his ankles and, moments later, a fist came from nowhere, splitting the skin over his cheekbone.

"Bastard!"

The man gained his feet and lashed out at Chris in a frenzy of hard kicks. Chris could do little to protect himself except to curl up into a ball, letting his back take the brunt of the hard blows. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, the room fell silent except for the harsh breathing of the two men. Chris closed his eyes, ignoring the trickle of tears that slid down the side of his nose, mingling with blood from the cut under his eye. He heard the footsteps moving away, then the sound of water dribbling into a plastic bowl caught his attention, reminding Chris that he had not taken a drink in what might have been hours. Beneath the duct tape, his mouth felt dry, his tongue almost too thick to fit into his mouth. He swallowed harshly, the lack of saliva making it difficult.

"Reckon ya done broken ma nose, ya bastard. Ya gonna have to pay for that."

Chris started to slither towards the open doorway, inching along like a worm on his belly but the feel of a heavy boot pressing into his lower back made him stop.

"Going somewhere?" The man grabbed him, pulling him up into a fireman's lift. "I think not."

Chris was dumped onto the stained mattress, the duct tape muffling his cry of pain as his arms were trapped beneath the weight of his own body. He was flipped onto his stomach with surprising ease. A fist into the side of his head caused him to see stars, his senses spinning and, by the time he became aware of what was happening, the duct tape holding his wrists together had been sliced apart. Chris was shoved, roughly, onto his back, one wrist quickly taped to the upright. He tried a last ditch attempt to disable the man, lashing out with his free fist, but screamed in rage beneath the mask as his wrist was caught, effortlessly, and taped to the other upright. His ankles were released and he twisted violently, hoping to catch the man with a few hard kicks but his assailant had backed off to a safe distance. The man's laughter filled the dingy shack as Chris exhausted himself before falling quiet upon the bed.

**********

From the air the Dodge Ram stood silently like a black sentinel amongst the flashing lights of the paler coloured, smaller patrol cars. Vin could make out various figures kneeling in front of it, as if paying homage but, from the reports that had come in as they travelled down from Denver, he knew they were probably taking casts of foot and tire prints. The helicopter settled down some distance away on the edge of the old highway, not wanting to get too close in case the down draft from the rotor disturbed the crime scene. Vin was out and loping towards the Ram before it had completely settled, with Buck hard on his heels. They were met part way by the local police sheriff who extended a hand that was grasped and released quickly by both men.

"Masters. I'm the sheriff in these parts."

"Agent Wilmington... and Agent Tanner. So what do you have for us?"

Masters nodded, having already determined from the younger man's face that they would not be interested in polite conversation; they wanted to get right down to business.

"Okay. Martin Sommers got a call from your man around two and half hours ago. Engine had cut out and had left him stranded out here on the old highway. Sommers was already towing another vehicle so he told your man to stay put and he'd be there in just over an hour. He was true to his word but when he got here..."

Masters trailed off, indicating the deserted Ram.

"Normally I wouldn't take much notice. We get cars abandoned along this stretch from time to time. The drivers usually hitch a lift to the nearest civilized spot... but Sommers thought it mighty strange that such an expensive car should be abandoned unlocked, and with personal valuables left behind. He decided to call it in."

"You said the drivers of these abandoned cars *usually* hitch a lift?"

Masters chewed on his lip when Vin started asking, realizing this man's scruffy appearance concealed a sharp mind, and he decided to come clean straight away.

"Had two cases over the past year where we never located the driver. Reckon they might have wandered off the highway, got themselves in trouble... but finding a body out here ain't easy excepting if the buzzards start circling. Before ya ask, ain't seen no sign of buzzards. Least, not around here yet."

They had been walking closer to the Ram as they spoke. Vin crouched down, his fingers drifting along the remains of a second set of tire tracks.

"You reckon whoever was driving this car took Chris."

"Yep."

Vin studied the tread marks, committing them to memory. He noticed that the car had tires from three different manufacturers. The two at the rear had similar tread patterns, but the ones at the front were different again, from the rear set and from each other. A man came over and crouched down beside him.

"Cheap tires... and from the wheel base and tire width I reckon it was your average kind of family vehicle. Certainly not a pick-up or an SUV. By the way, I'm Martin Sommers."

Vin shook hands with the man, a momentary stab of jealousy filling him as he considered the man before him.

"You were the last person to speak to him... other than this guy," Vin indicated the tire tracks. "How did he sound?"

"Frustrated, annoyed... not at me. Polite and kinda resigned to the wait. Said he'd wait with the Ram and sounded pretty sincere about it. That's why I was surprised when he weren't here."

"Looks like whoever stopped was heading south, but turned around and took back off the way they came."

"I came up from the turn just north of Pinon. Didn't pass a soul on the whole journey. But it's not unusual for this stretch at that time of day. Most folks stop at Pinon or Fountain and grab a bite to eat, sit out the hottest part of the day. Don't suppose ya need to consider that when ya got one of those."

Vin looked across at the air-conditioned Ram. "No, don't suppose ya do. Wish he had though."

Buck dropped down beside Vin.

"Shoot, Vin! That car could have put a fair distance between itself and here in just a few hours. Ain't no way we're gonna be able to track it."

Vin looked at Buck then at Sommers.

"You said that time of day is pretty slow. So people might remember any cars that passed this way round that time." He waited for a nod from the tow-truck driver. "Where's the nearest stop to here, northbound?"

"That'll be Jeb's Diner. About six miles on at the intersection... where this old road rejoins the interstate. Ya know, not many people use this old highway these days, not now we got that new straight piece of road."

Vin looked at Buck again and saw him shaking his head. They both had the same thought, that Chris had decided to turn off the interstate to give the Ram a little extra work out on the way home.

"Jeb's Diner?"

Sommers nodded sagely and Vin turned to read agreement in Buck's eyes. Buck stood up and started to walk towards the helicopter but was surprised when Vin stalked off in the other direction.

"Vin?"

"Gotta speak to Masters... and pick up something from the Ram."

Buck hurried back after him, wondering what Vin wanted that couldn't be gathered while they were in the air.

"Sheriff? Them two drivers who disappeared... can ya contact your office and get me the case reports, fax them to me?"

"Sure. You reckon they might be connected?"

"Don't know for sure, but there may be something and I don't wanna overlook anything."

Buck raised both eyebrows when Vin gave the sheriff the fax number for Chris's laptop, but it made sense. He waited as Vin retrieved the laptop and Chris's other personal items from the Ram, having already determined that those items could be released from the crime scene. Together they headed back to the helicopter and took off north towards Jeb's diner.

By the time they got there the faxes were already coming in.

**********

Chris watched as the man moved about the room, stopping once in a while to grin at Chris but ignoring him for the most part. He could not quite get a handle on what the guy wanted but he knew it wouldn't be anything good; the old dried blood staining the mattress was testament to that fact. He kept quiet and still, realizing it would be better not to draw attention to himself, hoping that would buy additional time for someone to notice he had gone missing. He was grateful that he had called the tow truck firm and prayed the man had reported his deserted car; it was his only real hope as no one else knew he was on the road back to Denver. Everyone else would assume he had stayed one more night in Pueblo, especially as the hotel room at the conference was already paid for. In addition, the tow-truck driver was the only person who knew he had taken a detour onto the old highway. Chris silently berated himself. He had wanted to see how well the Ram handled the bumpier ride but it had never occurred to him that the jarring would work something loose.

The man stopped in front of an old mirror, checking out the damage to his face, hissing slightly as he bent his nose first one way then another. Chris felt a moment of annoyance, knowing that he had not caused as much damage as they had both initially believed. The nose was obviously tender but definitely not broken. As if sensing his scrutiny, the man turned to face him.

"You know, you ain't the first one I done brought back here. Been others. But your by far the purtiest."

The man came closer, nicotine-stained fingers reaching out to play with Chris's hair. Chris lashed out at him but the man merely moved back and laughed again.

"Feistiest too. Gonna have to show ya who's boss 'round here. Might take a little time but, see, nobody knows about this place so I can do pretty much what I wanna do, take as long as I need."

Chris shouted something obscene at the man but the duct tape prevented anything more than a few muffled noises.

"Yeah. 'Spect your wondering why I got you're all gagged if'n there's nobody around to hear your shouts." The man leaned closer. "Maybe I just don't wanna hear your shouts neither."

Chris quieted, just the heaviness of his breathing filling the dank shack.

"You're gonna learn I can do what I like with ya. Anything at all. And you're gonna learn to do whatever I say."

The man stroked his callused hand down Chris's cheek then went back across to the other side of the room. For the first time Chris had a feeling that dying would be the least of his worries, that death might not actually be in this man's plans for some time. Then he realized that there were other concerns, the first being that he needed to use the bathroom, but how could he ask when he had this duct tape over his mouth. He decided to risk getting the man's attention, calling insistently but softly. The man glanced around and looked at him, the dark eyes grazing his body but stopping when they reached Chris's groin.

"Lesson number one. Ya soil them pants then ya still gonna have to sleep in them. I'll let ya take care of them needs only when it suits me. 'Til then you're gonna have to hold it."

Chris knew his eyes were sparking anger and embarrassment but the man just laughed again and turned away, leaving Chris alone to fight his own body's desire to dispose of waste. By the end of another hour, Chris had screwed his eyes shut, the sweat beading on his forehead with the strain, the urge to hold on killing him. He felt the dip of the lumpy mattress as the man came to sit down beside him, feeling totally unable to do anything about it without breaking the fragile control he had over his own body.

"What do I get for helping ya out here?"

Chris opened his eyes to mere slits and stared at the man, trying to gauge what he might want. He almost sobbed when the man popped the button on his jeans then start to lower the zip. He lay still, muscles tensed, hating himself for his own weakness as his pants were eased from his hips, even raising himself to ease the passage of the tight denim over his ass cheeks. The denim was tugged down to his knees, trapping his legs in the strong material. Chris found his breathing coming harsher as the man pulled a bedpan from under the bed, holding it up so Chris could see that relief would be on hand - for a price. When fingers dragged downwards from his navel, following the trail of crisp, dark blond hair to his groin, Chris's eyes widened. He watched, indecision crossing his face, as the man brushed those fingers across his softened sex before grasping him firmly. The man's thumb teased along the sensitive slit, sending an unwelcome shock wave through Chris's body and Chris sobbed as his control was lost, the relief almost as painful because of the loss of dignity in allowing this man to hold him so intimately.

Only Vin!

His eyes widened at the thought that screamed through him, terrified when he realized what his mind had just said to him, that he *could* accept Vin touching him like this. He felt the heat rise into his face.

"See. That weren't so bad now, was it? Now it's time to pay up."

The man set the used bedpan aside and leaned over to kiss the flesh of Chris's lower abdomen, the action jolting Chris back to reality and he kicked out with both legs still trapped together, dislodging the man from the bed. There was a harsh grunt as the man hit the floor but, seconds later, he had scrabbled back to his feet, rage filling a face that was swollen from the earlier attack. Chris was suddenly very aware of his vulnerability and started to raise his denim-bound legs, drawing his knees up to protect his soft abdomen and groin. The man sneered down at him.

"I'll give ya a lesson in respect, treat ya like a dog if that's what ya want."

Chris flinched, expecting a fist to come flying towards him, his eyes widening when, instead, the man picked up the used bedpan and threw the contents into Chris's face.

"You do that again and I'll make ya drink it next time."

Chris turned his head away in humiliation, lying still until the man had moved away, shocked by the degradation he felt through one small act. He could feel the warm droplets on his eyelashes, running down his cheek and into his hair - stinging the cut under his eye. Surreptitiously, he tried to wipe the urine off his face by brushing his cheek against the coarse and grimy mattress.

**********

"Greg Kawalski. Age 28. His car was found deserted on I25 not two miles north of that Jeb's Diner, back eight months ago. Case came under the jurisdiction of the Fountain police department. They thought he might have accepted a lift from someone but he never showed up, not even for work after the weekend."

Vin looked up as Buck finished outlining the Kawalski case.

"Same here for a Matthew Johnson, from Pueblo. Age 37. Ran his own company and was on a buying trip to Denver. Found his car abandoned north of Pinon, just south of the intersection Chris must have taken onto the old road. That was three months ago. Gotta missing persons report filed by his wife."

"You thinking the same as I'm thinking? That it's a mite too coincidental that three men have disappeared on the same stretch, between Fountain and Pinon."

Vin nodded his head. "Yep. Noticed something else. Them other vehicles were found on I25 either side of the old highway, not on the stretch of the interstate that runs parallel."

"Then I reckon it might be someone who'd have cause to use that old stretch, maybe a local.

"Let's go have a word with Jeb."

Vin and Buck strode over to the diner and entered. Inside was nothing special. The counter was covered in a pale vinyl veneer that was peeling in several places, a glass cabinet set into the top displaying various tempting desserts of Apple and Pecan pie. Large, old-fashioned booths were arranged in a straight line from one end of the diner to the other. The seats were covered in a stained beige vinyl that was criss-crossed in a spider web of cracks through age, but they looked pretty comfortable nonetheless.

Buck flashed his identity card and asked to see the owner. He was pleasantly surprised when 'Jeb' turned out to be a passably pretty Jenny Deborah McCalley, a buxom woman in her early forties. Buck ignored Vin's soft sigh of resignation as he switched on his 'animal magnetism'.

"Afternoon, Mizz McCalley. Buck Wilmington. Pleased to meet you." Buck took the woman's hand and brought it to his lips, enjoying the way she flushed with both pleasure and embarrassment.

"My friends call me Jeb."

"Then I hope you will allow me the pleasure of calling you Jeb too."

Jeb giggled girlishly and blushed anew as Buck grinned at her with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"You really are a charmer, Mr. Wilmington."

"Please. Call me Buck."

"How can I help you... Buck."

"We're investigating the disappearance of a friend between here and Pinon. We were wondering if you might happened to have noticed any persons or vehicles that may have passed by here in the last three hours, especially any that turned off down the old highway."

"Hmmm. Been a mite quiet in the diner these past three hours. Not seen too many cars, let alone customers, especially as I've been working out back. A few of the locals have been in. They might have seen more."

"If you would so kindly give me their names then I--"

"Oh certainly! There was Harper Jones. He owns the land out back of here, lives about five miles up the old road. And George Mason, who heads the local ranch association, lives along the same stretch. Oh yes, and I thought I saw the Harris boy go past just a short while back."

The door to the diner opened and Buck grinned when the rest of the Team came through. He had radioed instructions for them to stop here a little while back and was pleased they had made good time in reaching the diner. He indicated to one of the booths and then turned back to Jeb.

"The rest of my people," he gave as way of explanation. "Thank you, Jeb." She gave him a grin and a nod. "Be mighty grateful for coffee... and maybe some of that peach pie I spied in back there."

"Coffee and pie, coming right up."

Buck joined the others, noticing that Vin had already taken a seat with them and was laying out the missing person reports that had been faxed through earlier.

"So what news do we have of our illustrious leader, Mr. Wilmington?"

"He's still missing, Ez."

Ezra glanced sharply at Vin, noticing the tightness about the normally relaxed features but decided to bite his tongue rather than let a retort slip passed. Nathan reached across and tapped the papers.

"And these are..?"

It was Buck who answered Nathan's question, informing him of the other two drivers who had gone missing over the past eight months.

"This does not bode well for Mr. Larabee."

"Well shoot, Ez. Reckon we done figured that out already."

"Vin!"

Vin had the decency to blush when he heard the soft rebuke in Josiah's voice, and he stammered out an apology to Ezra. How could he tell them how much this had affected him? He should have insisted on going to Pueblo with Chris, and to hell with what other people thought of it. He knew Chris had been on the verge of asking him along, and he knew one little nudge from him would have swayed Chris. Why? Why had he not given Chris that nudge? Why had he let him go off alone?

Vin bit into the side of his cheek, knowing he had said nothing because he had wanted to give Chris some room, afraid Chris would slam down all the shutters if he realized how much Vin needed to be with him every minute of every day. It made his fears all the harder to control.

How could he allow anyone to know how terrified he was that Chris might be suffering, or even now, growing cold, laid out in a shallow grave? How would they ever understand how important that one man had become to him? Chris was his world, his light in the darkness - his reason for being. He had loved Chris for so long, had come close to telling him on so many occasions, but was always afraid of seeing Chris turn from him in horror and disgust if he ever let on how he felt. Hell, Chris had been married, had once had a wife and child, and Vin knew Chris still grieved for them.

Their friendship had been growing and he had loved the way Chris sought him out, sharing all those incidents that had affected him through the day, good and bad. He loved the way they could sit and talk about almost anything - or nothing at all - falling into a companionable silence where words were unnecessary.

However, there had been times, recently, when he had caught Chris giving him what could only be an appraising eye. He had wondered at first whether this was just a work issue, half-expecting to be told to go get his hair cut, but those beautiful green eyes had taken to ranging over Vin's entire body. Vin was sure he'd seen the heat of embarrassment rise into the handsome face when he caught him looking one time. He had sensed their friendship changing and it had given him hope that he might, one day, share all of himself with Chris - but now he felt as if his soul had been ripped out of his body and thrown headlong off a cliff. He was in free fall, and if he found Chris dead then Vin knew his soul would be dashed against the rocks far below.

A gentle hand covered his own clenched fist and Vin looked up into Josiah's compassionate blue eyes.

"I shoulda gone with him."

"We're going to find him, Vin."

Vin nodded, realizing that none of them would settle for anything less, but the longer it took, the greater the chance they would find him dead rather than alive.

They spent the next half an hour going over all the details. Vin used his sharp memory to recall - and draw out - the tread markings on the tires of the car that might have been used to take Chris. The chance of tracking this car from the scene of the abduction was too remote; there was far too much ground to cover. For all any of them knew, that car might still be in motion and be many, many miles from here by now.

Jeb had given them the names of three local people who had been around in the past few hours, and who may have seen something, so they divided the interviews between them. Buck looked at the group of men ranged around the table, trying to decide what configuration Chris would have chosen for the three groups. The locals were an unknown quantity so it seemed a good idea to ensure that Josiah, Nathan and JD were protected; Josiah and Nathan because their inclination was towards non-violence, and JD because of his inexperience.

"Okay. Josiah, Vin... you take Harper Jones. Ezra, Nathan... you got the Harris boy. JD and I'll go have a word with George Dixon."

Buck commandeered Nathan's car and they made arrangements to meet back at the diner later to compare notes.

**********

Chris watched in growing horror as the man started to strip off, his eyes falling, involuntarily, to the engorged shaft jutting out from a bush of dark curls as the pants dropped to the floor and were kicked aside. Chris jerked his eyes back up to the man's face when yellow, nicotine-stained fingers started stroking the thick shaft.

"Like what ya see, purty boy?"

Chris swallowed hard beneath the gag, forcing his hardest glare as the man came closer to the bed. He was unsurprised when his patent glare did not seem to faze the man at all. However, he knew most of the effect would have been lost by the bruising and swelling over his cheek, and by the duct tape over his mouth that covered the lower half of his face.

"You an' me gonna have some fun, but first I gotta stop them long legs from kicking out."

He walked over to a cupboard by the door, the clinking of metal giving Chris some idea of what to expect but he still found his breath coming faster as the man approached, carrying what looked like a set of home-made shackles and thick-link chain. Chris did his best to stop the man from attaching the shackle to his ankle but he was severely hampered by the denim still tightly bound around his knees. He wished he had managed to kick the jeans off earlier, cursing himself for wearing such tight denim. If he had not stopped to change before starting the journey home then he would have still been in his baggier suit pants.

With one ankle firmly shackled and the end of that chain secured, Chris found his movements were limited even further. His captor patted his thigh before leaning over to gather up the other shackle. It took the man less trouble to shackle the other ankle but the denim was now impeding them both, making it impossible for the man to attach the end of the chain to its mooring on the floor. A sharp bladed knife appeared in the man's hand.

"You struggle and this here knife is gonna cut ya." The razor-edge blade began to slice through the denim as if it was paper. "Ya won't be needing these here clothes no more anyhow."

Chris fought hard against the urge to strike out at the man, but he could feel the cool steel against his skin. He prepared himself for that split second when his legs would be free of the restraining denim, planning how he would wrap his legs around that man's throat, snapping the thick neck. When the moment came, his captor outwitted him, using his larger weight to hold down Chris's legs until he could grab the end of the chain and tether Chris securely.

Chris seethed as the man stood back up, hating the way he was openly appreciating Chris's almost completely naked body spread out before him. Chris froze as the knife came back, the tip trailing across his bare chest. He moaned as it was pressed into the base of his nipple, his captor leaning over to smear the droplet of blood beading from the tiny puncture wound. Chris squeezed his eyes closed as the blade moved lower, skimming along his stomach, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake... a tongue flowed on behind, stopping only when the knife reached Chris's groin.

"Ya owe me. So how should I make ya pay?"

Fingers lifted Chris's softened sex, his face heating in shock as his sensitive flesh responded automatically, blood surging into his groin despite the unwillingness of his mind. His erection faded just as quickly as the sharp blade was held against the base. The man gave him a malicious grin then threw the knife some distance away. Rough fingers stroked along the silky skin of inner thigh.

"Gonna take ya... but I ain't gonna use your mouth just yet. You'll probably just bite me... but there's another hole I could fill."

Chris's involuntary movement in tensing his ass muscles caused a laugh to spill from the man. He reached out and patted Chris's naked thigh again before allowing his thick fingers to stroke the length of the quivering thigh muscles.

"That mouth sure was purty though... gonna use it eventually."

The man reached under the bed and pulled out a battered old tin. He flipped off the lid and delved inside, sifting through the contents before holding up an item for Chris to see.

"I kinda believe in safe sex - for me."

Chris found himself staring in horror as the package was opened and the self-lubricated condom was rolled down the length of the thick shaft. He started to struggle the instant the man knelt on the bed between his parted legs, shaking his head from side to side in denial. His muffled cursing was ignored as the man's fingers dug into Chris's inner thighs, raising Chris's ass until it lay on the incline of the man's thighs. One thick, dry finger sought out and pushed against the tightly clenched ring of muscle, and Chris tensed even further. The sting of a sharp slap to his ass made Chris relax involuntarily, and the finger slid inside, hooking first one way then another as it tried to open the muscle, a ragged nail catching against the sensitive inner flesh.

"So tight... so hot... knew you'd be purty inside *and* out." The finger pulled out. "Well, that's ya foreplay done with."

Chris screamed, the sound caught and held by the silver duct tape, as the blunt shaft pierced the ring of muscle, tears of pain and rage flowing down his cheeks. The man slammed in to the hilt in one thrust then ground his hips against Chris's ass. Chris could feel the wiry hair against his sensitive flesh, could feel the heat from the man's body against his own.

"Yesss... So hot and tight."

His rapist pulled out almost to the tip then slammed back in hard, bringing another muffled scream to Chris's sealed lips. Over and over, the man thrust in and pulled out. Chris could feel the man's heavy balls slapping against him, his abused ass muscles burning as the thick shaft pounded in and out of him relentlessly. Chris turned his head away, squeezing his eyes closed against the pain, against the sight of the man taking pleasure in his unwilling flesh; trying to will his mind to escape from the grunts and moans of pleasure that fell about him. The numbness in his mind gave way to shock and denial, but the uncomfortable pressure of the thick organ leaving then filling his body, over stretching the delicate tissues, brought reality crashing back with every thrust.

This isn't happening... Not this. Not to me. Pretend it's Vin... pretend it's Vin... Oh God! Please let it be Vin...

Another sharp slap, this time on his face, brought his eyes open and he found himself staring into the lust-filled darkness of his rapist.

"Hey... purty boy. Ya... don't wanna miss... the best part. Aaahh... so good... tight... Yes..."

Chris held back a sob as the man froze, eyes glazing over. Another hard thrust and the breath came hissing from between the man's clenched teeth.

"Yessss."

He pumped twice more then collapsed, chest heaving. Droplets of sweat dripped from the man's forehead and chest, splattering across Chris's bared flesh as the man let his weight settle on top of Chris for a moment longer. After an eternity, he held the condom securely by the base and pulled out, ignoring Chris's muted cry of pain. The semen-filled, blood covered condom was stripped off, tied and discarded before the rapist leaned back over, planting an almost affectionate kiss on Chris's cheek.

"Thank ya, darling. Ya sure was a great fuck. We'll do it again real soon... but I cain't say I like that parfume your wearing... Eau de Piss."

Coarse laughter filled the room as the man enjoyed his own joke, then he left the bed, quickly pulling on his clothes, leaving Chris alone with his pain and humiliation.

-ooOOoo-

Josiah drove carefully up the dirt track that led onto the Jones's ranch, trying to avoid the potholes. The house itself loomed up ahead of them, its wooden structure looking as if it had weathered many a desert storm and cold winter. White paint, yellowed with age, was peeling from the front facade and the railing around the porch was damaged in several places, the broken sticks standing proud and splintered.

Josiah brought the car to a halt about ten feet from the front of the house, and heard the screen door screech as an elderly, weather-beaten man stepped out, one hand held over his eyes to cut out some of the glare from the late afternoon sun.

"Can I help you boys?"

"I sure hope so. We are looking for a Harper Jones."

"Then ya done found him."

"Mr. Jones. Agent Josiah Sanchez and my colleague, Agent Tanner." He flicked out his identity card and held it up to the man for close inspection.

"ATF? Not much call for you boys down this way. What can I do to help?"

"Ms. McCalley... Jeb... says you were at the diner earlier today. We would like to ask you a few questions."

"Better come on in then. Ain't gonna stand out here in the sun yabbering"

Josiah and Vin followed the old man into the dusty interior, taking note of the unkempt appearance of both man and house, seeing a pile of dirty plates gathering flies by the sink. The man seemed to notice where they glanced, offering up some sort of explanation.

"Lost my wife a year back. Got killed stepping out onto the interstate, stupid woman."

"Sorry to hear of your loss."

"Yeah, well. Ain't been quite so house-proud without her. Don't get many visitors to be bothering about. Anyways. What're yer questions?"

"We're investigating a disappearance. The man in question reported himself stranded on the old road that runs in front of your land. When the tow truck came, he was gone."

"So what's this gotta do with me, son?"

"Jeb mentioned you were at the diner today. We wondered if you could remember details of any cars that passed by during that time. Maybe a car that turned down this way."

The old man rubbed at his whiskered chin, eyes distant and thoughtful.

"To tell the truth, don't remember seeing any 'cepting old George's sedan and Seth Harris's boy on that infernal machine of his... and my own of course." The man gave a tight grimace.

Vin sighed, having already spotted the battered pick-up truck round the corner of the house. He didn't need to check out the tires, as he knew they were not looking for a pick-up.

"Well, thank you kindly, sir, for taking time to talk with us. Have a good day."

-ooOOoo-

The sound of sobbing brought Chris out of the restless sleep he had fallen into after the rape. He glanced over, uncertain of what he would find and was shocked when he saw a naked man chained to a sturdy mounting at the far end of the shack. Moments later, Chris's rapist returned, strutting around the room doing little odd chores such as lighting a small kerosene lamp, and generally ignoring the two naked men as if they were beneath his notice. The lamplight cast a small golden glow, illuminating the interior of the slowly darkening shack. Chris frowned. If dusk was falling then it had to be around five. Chris realized he had been allowed to sleep far longer than he expected, perhaps more than two hours. Could it really only be four hours since the Ram had glided to a halt at the side of the highway? He felt as if he had been here for a lifetime, his former existence just a dream. It was almost as if his whole life had contracted down to this place and the man who pottered around nearby.

Chris turned his attention back to the other captive and saw the eyes raise up for a moment, holding his own. Chris swallowed hard, horror stricken by the pain and dull resignation to his fate that was so apparent in the pale blue depths, the lamplight glinting off the rapidly drying tracks of tears that had run down the gaunt cheeks. The man was sitting with his arms wrapped defensively around himself; shoulder's still heaving occasionally as the last of his racking sobs left his body.

"Looks like I got me a little family now. Ya can think of yourselves like brothers." The man turned and raised his hand ready to deal a blow. "Quit that racket or you'll get my fist."

The sobbing man buried his face into his arms, huddling over to protect himself from a clearly expected blow, and Chris felt tears of anguish and despair fill him. It was bad enough that he was in the middle of this nightmare without finding there was another person sharing this same terrible fate.

Chris wished, desperately, that his rapist would remove the gag. Perhaps if he was able to talk to him, reason with him, then... His eyes widened as their abductor leaned over the huddled man and began to toy with the dark locks on the man's head before gazing back at Chris.

"This here sniveling dog calls itself Matt." The man turned his attention back to the cowering figure. "Reckon you and me should have some fun tonight. Show your new brother what I'm gonna expect from him real soon."

With a hand clenched in the dark curls, he hauled Matt to his knees then, with quick, deft movements, he pulled down his own pants and held his hardened shaft in front of Matt. With a small sob, Matt opened his mouth and sucked on the head. Callused hands grabbed Matt's hair once more, holding him firmly in place as his rapist began to thrust brutally into the unwilling mouth. Chris found himself too horrified to turn away, feeling the bile rising as he watched Matt choke on the shaft pounding into his mouth. The rapist stilled, his breath hissing out and Chris had to swallow his own vomit as he watched some of the milky white cum spill from the reluctant mouth. The rapist pulled out his softening shaft and, with strong fingers, gripped Matt's chin, holding his mouth closed, forcing him to swallow.

He looked across at Chris, his dark eyes alight with an inner insanity, a cruel smile curving his thin lips. The man pushed Matt aside like a discarded toy, and Chris noticed the way the abused man cowered before crawling away as far as possible, curling up into a ball on the dirty floor. When Chris's eyes flicked back up he found his rapist barely a foot away from the bed.

"Don't ya worry none. You'll get your turn to suck on a real man, real soon. Looking forward to feeling that purty mouth wrapped around my meat, 'specially after I done sweet-talked Charlene into checking your blood's clean."

The man moved over to a cupboard and took out some scraps of bread and moldy cheese. He threw them in the general direction of Matt then sloshed some water into a bowl and placed it on the floor beside him. The rapist glanced at Chris who was still lying mostly naked, gagged and secured to the bed.

"You don't get none 'til ya earn it... 'Stead of just lying there taking it up the ass." The man came over and stroked the piece of anatomy in question. "Not that it ain't a fine piece of ass."

-ooOOoo-

Buck and JD were the first to return to the diner. They slumped into the booth they had vacated earlier and forced a smile and some thanks as Jeb placed fresh coffee and pie in front of them. A little while later, Nathan and Ezra came in, the looks on their faces attesting to the fact that they had found no new clues either. Vin's face fell the moment he entered the diner with Josiah and spotted the others waiting for them. For a man who had spent a lifetime learning to read body language, their slouched positions and worn features told him more than mere words ever could. He felt that reassuring grip, from Josiah, on his shoulder once more, and placed his own hand over the top in quiet thanks.

"I gather nobody has seen or heard anything."

Heads were shaken, eyes lowered in frustration in response to Buck's statement.

"Then I suggest we grab something to eat... then find the nearest motel. Come back here in the morning. There ain't nothing any of us can do now it's getting dark."

The nearest motel was eight miles distant, almost into Fountain and Ezra was aghast when he saw the inside of the room he was to share with Vin.

"My Lord. I believe there may be a shower beneath all that mould, but I do not intend to investigate closer. I do believe I would be cleaner if I stayed *out* of that hideous bathroom. And, pray tell, *what* is that smell?"

Vin looked through the bathroom door and took a quick sniff, wrinkling his nose in disapproval.

"Piss."

Ezra closed his eyes momentarily in revulsion and turned away, moving over to one of the narrow cots that comprised this so-called twin room. He reached out, tentatively, and grabbed hold of the bedspread, pulling back the covers sharply. His eyebrows climbed at finding the surprisingly crisp, white sheets. He gave Vin a look.

"Seems I have chosen my bed for the night." He grin faded rapidly. "Oh Lord."

"What now, Ez?"

Vin turned back in time to see several large cockroaches skitter across the crisp sheet.

"Perhaps I shall pass the night in the Jag."

**********

Night had fallen quickly, the glow of a single lamp throwing long shadows about the interior of the shack. The man had closed the shutters so none of the fading light bled out into the darkness beyond, then he had disappeared out of the door. When he returned a short time later, he loomed over the bed, staring for long minutes but Chris refused to look away first, unwilling to let the man know how much he had already hurt him both physically and mentally. Eventually, a crooked smile curled up one corner of the man's mouth and he moved away. Chris felt the relief flood through him until he heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the room and placed beside the bed.

"Yer an unexpected catch. When I saw ya leaning over that engine, those pants tight over your firm ass... those long, lean legs. Well, I reckoned I could stop and take a closer look. Then ya turned and I saw them purty green eyes and those pouty lips. Ya sure was a beautiful sight with the sun shining off them yellow locks. Knew right away I wanted ya, 'cept ya wouldn't play along. Those others got inside my car real easy. Relieved they were, to be getting a lift." The man laughed raucously, as if he had made yet another great joke. "Ain't so relieved now, are they?"

Chris endured a few minutes of unwanted caresses, hating the feel of those hands sliding across his rapidly cooling flesh. Eventually, his abductor moved away, no longer interested in talking to his captive. Matt crawled out of his way, like an abused dog, whenever the man came too close, or cowered, with shoulders hunched.

Over the next few hours Chris watched as Matt settled, arms wrapped around his too thin frame. It was obvious that he was barely surviving on the meager rations cast his way - and that he paid dearly for every mould-covered scrap. As he watched Matt, Chris began to wonder about the reference to other men, his mind conjuring up images of others, perhaps still chained up outside in the cold and dark.

Chris felt the frustration build inside. He wanted to try to reason with their rapist, he wanted to ask questions, wanted to scream abuse... wanted to know exactly what else was in store for him - but the gag prevented that. He bit into his inner cheek, drawing blood that filled his mouth with its metallic tang. Just looking at the naked, broken man huddled on the floor gave him the answer to one of his questions. Death was probably not going to be an early option and he had a feeling that, if Vin didn't find him, then eventually, he might end up just as broken.

Chris flinched as the rapist came back to his side and brushed some errant strands of sticky hair from his forehead. Lust darkened the cruel eyes.

"So tense. Maybe my other toy can relieve some of that tension."

The man walked over to the other side of the room and dragged Matt up by his hair. He yanked on the chain and led him over to the grimy bed, securing him next to Chris. He unzipped his pants and then he sat back to watch, one hand reaching to fondle his already engorged flesh as it sprang free from the denim.

Chris met Matt's pale blue eyes and saw the regret filling them. He shook his head slightly, silently begging the man not to carry through with their captor's demand. The pale eyes closed and turned away as Matt reached for Chris's flaccid shaft. Chris tried to move away from the contact, hating his body's automatic reaction to the stimuli as the trembling fingers wrapped around him, stroking the slowly hardening length and rubbing across the sensitive head.

He tried to push Matt away when the hot mouth closed over him, drawing him deep inside, sucking and licking, and Chris felt momentary relief when his erection wilted, his mind finally gaining some control over his errant body. Matt released his flaccid shaft, mouth licking and kissing as he made his way up the vulnerable, unresponsive body. He started sucking softly on the side of Chris's throat but there was no passion, no bruising strength behind the action. Matt nuzzled into his hairline, tongue rimming his ear. A low whisper, warm breath catching in fear, made Chris start.

"Let it happen... or he'll hurt us both."

Matt did not linger, he moved back down Chris's body, back to the almost flaccid cock, sucking it in once more.

Chris could hear a running commentary from the man who was avidly watching them, his eyes darting to the side, revealing the sight of those thick fingers flying rapidly as their captor played with himself.

"Yes. Take him in. Lick him. Suck him."

Then Chris understood and found himself caught in a dilemma. If he didn't put on a show then their rapist would take one - or both of them - to satisfy his lust. If the man jerked himself off then they might be spared that pain for another few hours, but Chris knew the price he paid would still be high. In the end it came down to a choice. Did he want to be raped again, by their captor - or coerced by Matt?

Chris closed his eyes, defeat filling him as he accepted the lesser of those two evils. He called a picture into his mind, clinging to the image. He let the dark locks become a cascade of long brown curls; the fear-filled, pale blue eyes deepen into the laughing, sky blues of Vin. He let his mind imagine it was Vin's lips wrapped around him, Vin's mouth sucking and licking along the length of his hardening shaft... Vin's long fingers skimming over his cold, clammy flesh.

Chris made the mistake of opening his eyes as his climax approached, shattering the near-perfect illusion. Tears of humiliation tracked down his face as he was quickly brought over the edge in a passionless climax. Knowing that both of them felt degraded by the act, neither was able to look each other in the face as the sounds of their rapist reaching his own far more satisfying release filled the air.

The man wiped himself down with a dirty rag that he brought out of his pocket, then he stood up, tucking his rapidly softening shaft back into his pants.

"It's a damn shame but I just cain't stay and play with ya any more tonight. Got myself some business to attend to. Didn't expect to find me no new toy to play with today."

He checked Matt was fully secured then he stood back and smiled. In the narrow bed it was impossible for Matt to pull away from any contact with Chris.

"Now ain't that a cute sight. My pets all snuggled up together. Now, don't neither of ya fret none. I'll be back in a few hours, soon as my business is done, and then we can all play some more. Hell, your so purty I ain't even gonna bother with no blood test. Gonna take yer bare-back and be damned."

With a click of his tongue and a wink, the man turned off the lamp, plunging the shack into darkness. Starlight filled the shack momentarily as he went out through the door, then there was nothing but the pitch black. The sound of a car engine starting then receding into the distance told its own story.

The temperature had started to plummet once the sun set and Chris became almost grateful for the warm body pressed close to the side of him in the narrow bed. Matt shifted, legs wrapping around his, one arm thrown across his own bare chest. He could feel the warmth of Matt's breath on the side of his neck as he lay his head down, using Chris's shoulder for a pillow. Chris's own arms were aching from being held over his head, still taped to the bedposts and he wished he could ask Matt to free him, or at least remove the gag. Matt's hands were free after all.

Chris tried nudging him, his inquisitive, desperate cries muffled by the duct tape sealing his mouth. He froze as a whisper came from Matt.

"I'm so sorry but I can't help you. These chains are solid... so neither of us is going anywhere... and if I remove the gag then he'll punish both of us."

Chris closed his eyes, anger flooding him for a moment until full realization sank in. This man had probably been here a long time, alone and defenceless, completely at the mercy of that insane bastard. Who was he to judge him? At least he knew he had friends who would come looking for him. Friends who would not stop until they found him - dead or alive.

Friends.

His thoughts returned to Vin, his eagle-eyed sharpshooter, just as they often did these days. He had been afraid to analyze those thoughts, scared as to where they might be leading. He knew there was something special between him and Vin, had been from the moment they met, and yet there was a vast difference between associating with someone on a professional level and connecting with them on a very personal one. Not that he didn't feel a personal connection with every member of his team, but there was something far deeper, far more intimate to his feelings for Vin Tanner. It startled him when he realized that if it had been Vin missing then he would never give up the search to find him - even if it took him the rest of his life, and he *knew* Vin felt the same way about him.

Vin? Where are you?

Images of Vin filled his head, the way his blue eyes sparkled, the way Vin liked to tease with that soft drawl, offering a wink when he reckoned he had teased long enough. Chris recalled the strong arms with their sure grip, the long fingers that caressed the trigger of his rifle... the mind that was, deceptively, as sharp and deadly as his eyes.

Deliberately, Chris turned his thoughts away from the way he had used Vin; away from the image of Vin's naked flesh and teasing mouth. He felt dirty, inside and out. He knew Vin cared for him and considered him a close friend, but how would Vin feel if he learned that Chris had betrayed that friendship, substituting his gentle spirit for a rapist? If Vin ever learned of this then Chris was certain he would lose his friend forever.

Chris gave a short laugh behind the gag. Despite his certainty that Vin would come looking for him, he knew it was stupid to pin all his hopes on Vin finding him soon - if at all. For all he knew no-one may yet be aware he was missing and, even then, they might not get too worried until he failed to return to work after the weekend. After all, it would not be the first time he had disappeared for a long weekend, although those times were now few and far between as the memory of Sarah and Adam's death lost its jagged edge.

There were also the missing men to consider. His rapist implied Chris was just one of many, so where were the others? And how long had Matt been here? Did Matt know the previous victims? Did they disappear soon after Matt was abducted? Were they dead? Murdered, or discarded like broken toys when they failed to give as much... pleasure... as Matt? Or were the others still here, sitting out there in the dark, huddled in a corner, waiting to be dragged in here and raped and beaten once more on a whim? Would Matt disappear and leave him alone with that monster, the lure of fresh meat making their captor disenchanted with the old?

Chris's stomach growled in hunger, distracting him from the morbid thoughts. His throat felt dry and sore from lack of water, but Chris knew he had to hold out for as long as possible. He could not afford to allow the creep who had abducted and raped him gain any additional leverage over him. It was bad enough that he knew he would need to use the bedpan again, eventually, although he was sorely tempted to just lie in his own mess rather than have to offer payment for that small concession to personal dignity. The sick thought crossed his mind that if he did soil himself then the man was less likely to want to make use of 'that other hole' again. He snorted softly. His thoughts seemed almost surreal. Here he was considering trading off one indignity for another but, truth be told, he would rather do that than allow the man to rape him again, would even suck off Matt to stop that from happening.

I could close my eyes and pretend it was Vin.

Matt burrowed in closer to his body, sharing his warmth with him, both of them gaining some small measure of comfort from the close contact. Chris realized with a shock that, despite the rapes and his vulnerable position, he did not feel unduly uncomfortable, physically or mentally, with the sensation of Matt's male body lying pressed against his own. He tried to make sense of it and failed, wondering if it was just a strange kinship he felt towards Matt, bonded by their common nightmare, that caused this lack of reaction, or whether he was in the throes of some kind of delayed shock.

With his mouth and arms taped, and his legs shackled and chained, there was nothing Chris could do to help himself. A wave of vulnerability rushed over him. He had never felt so helpless in his life before, not even when he returned home to find his Sarah and Adam dead, killed in a bomb blast that had been meant for him. Then he was able to rant and rage, to lash out and hunt down their murderers. Here, all he could do was lie in the dark and pray for an end to the nightmare.

As he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, he gave himself a little light to push away some of his own mental bleakness. He let himself imagine that it was the feel of Vin's hard, warm body against his own instead of this unwilling companion in his nightmare, let his flesh believe it was the silken strands of curly brown hair that lay upon his shoulder, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

-ooOOoo-

Sleep proved elusive. Vin lay stretched out on the motel bed, clad only in T-shirt and boxers, staring up at the grimy, nicotine-yellow ceiling. The other bed was empty, the thought of sleeping with cockroaches too appalling for the dapper Southerner, leaving Vin alone with his thoughts. It was at times like this that his thoughts often drifted to the tall, handsome man who commanded far more than just Vin's working life.

"Where are ya, Chris?"

If he had been expecting some answer then he would have been sorely disappointed for the only sound in the dreary motel room was the click of the ancient heating system. His mind played all manner of tricks with him, sending him scenario after scenario where Chris was being tortured, mutilated, drugged, raped - and murdered. His overactive imagination gave him visions of the halo of golden hair caked in grime, the desert sand pouring over the beautiful face as Chris was buried in his shallow grave. He could see the long limbs set with rigor mortis, gray and lifeless, where they had once been kissed by both sun and life.

"No. I won't believe this."

Vin climbed to his feet, dragging a hand through the unruly locks of curly hair that flowed down passed his shoulders. He flicked on the radio and let the soft music settle over the quiet room before lying back on the bed. A new song started, and he found himself frozen by the words...

Hope is your survival, a captive path I lead.  
No matter where you go I will find you... if it takes a thousand years.

Vin felt tears burn behind his eyes, making his own vow to Chris with those words, then, with a grunt of annoyance, he hoisted himself to his feet. They had all agreed to get to sleep early so they did not have to waste a single moment of daylight tomorrow, but Vin knew he would only spend the night lying here thinking - and worrying - about Chris.

He dragged on his beige pants and a dark blue shirt, pulled on his boots and coat then went out, locking the motel door behind him. Vin stopped beside Ezra's Jag and peered in through the window. It was empty but that was not too surprising. He continued on up the interstate about twenty yards to the small bar, hearing the muffled sound of Country and Western music drifting on the slight breeze. Bright neon spelled out the name: the Cattle Feed. Vin walked through the parking lot with hands pushed deep into his pockets; head hanging low from the heavy thoughts that still gripped him. He pushed into the interior, the music almost deafening, but raised his head when he heard his name being called. He gave a wry grin when he spotted Buck and Ezra propping up the bar.

"Guess neither of ya could sleep neither."

A pretty woman brushed against Buck and Vin was almost taken aback when the notorious womanizer failed to take advantage. It occurred to him that Buck had probably only turned on the charm with Jeb because he wanted to draw out information from her. Vin felt a moment of guilt. It was so easy to forget that Buck was Chris's oldest friend, that Buck was, no doubt, worrying just as much as himself, probably just as scared that they might never find Chris alive, maybe even sharing those same visions of Chris buried in a shallow grave. He forced himself to steer his mind away from those dark thoughts, returning to Buck's obvious abilities with the fairer sex. It was pretty amazing how many women fell for Buck's magnetism; eager to tell him anything if it would keep him flirting with them just a little longer.

Buck shoved a glass of beer in front of Vin and watched as Vin downed it in one gulp.

"Mighty thirsty there, pard?"

Vin set down the glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He frowned when he saw the compassion in the blue eyes, then almost jumped when he felt Ezra's hand pat his own.

"We will discover Mr. Larabee's location. Trust me."

Although it was dark in the interior, Vin could read the morbid thoughts that flashed across Ezra's face. He knew that they were all thinking about the other two drivers who had been missing for months, and if Chris's disappearance was connected then there was a good chance that he was already dead. Vin's eyes hardened, his mouth tightening into a sharp line as he stared from one man to the other.

"Ain't never gonna stop looking for him. Tell you that right now."

Both men nodded, their eyes acknowledging the sincerity behind Vin's words.

"And we're gonna be right there with you, Vin. You have my word."

Vin clasped Buck's hand and nodded, sealing the friendship they both shared for Chris Larabee. Ezra's hand came down upon their joint hands, and they could see by the hard glint in his green eyes that he was equally sincere in his own declaration. Dead or alive, they would find Chris and bring his abductor to justice.

An hour past slowly, Josiah and Nathan joining them at a small table they had procured in a quieter corner towards the back of the bar. The doors opened again and Vin half-expected it to be JD but it was just another of the locals and yet there was something about the man that caught Vin's eye. He watched as the man walked stiffly to the bar, one hand playing with his nose. Vin's eyes narrowed. There had been a couple of heated moments where fists had started to fly so he was not surprised to note the man had a bruised face and yet... Vin's attention was caught by something Josiah said and he quickly dismissed the man from his thoughts.

Ten minutes later, JD came in, looking around the bar furtively, his face showing relief when he spotted the others in the far corner. He crossed the bar quickly but with a false show of bravado, as if expecting trouble. Vin found a small, wry smile crossing his own face. This was the sort of place where trouble was a given part of the service.

JD sank down and leaned forward.

"It's out there."

"What's out there?"

JD's eyes flitted about the room nervously.

"In the parking lot. A car with three different tire treads... just like Vin described."

Everyone sat up a little straighter, cursing themselves for not even considering checking for the car here of all places.

"Ya sure about that, JD?"

"Ain't stupid, Buck."

"No. No you ain't, kid."

Vin had risen to his feet. He leaned across the table quickly.

"Gonna go check it out. Just to be on the safe side."

He gave JD a meaningful look and the two of them headed out together, leaving the others scanning the bar, wondering who was the driver of the car, and hence, the possible abductor of their friend.

Vin followed JD across the small parking lot to an old tan-colored Buick. He knelt down and checked the tread on the tires, his heart beating faster with each positive identification. This was the car that had stopped by the Ram. Even if the driver had merely been a Good Samaritan, pulling over to check Chris was okay and then leaving, he might be the last person to have seen Chris before his abduction.

"What'll we do now, Vin?"

Vin pointed to himself and then to a rickety fence partially hidden by some scrubby bushes. He indicated that JD should go back into the bar, saw JD's acknowledging nod then Vin settled in behind the fence to wait and see who the driver was. Not long after JD entered the bar, Vin saw Ezra leave and he whistled to gain Ezra's attention, pointing to the Buick. Ezra nodded surreptitiously, and got into the Jag's driving seat, getting ready to follow the car if needs be. Vin had a moment of doubt at the wisdom of using the Jag, wishing they had the foresight to get the repaired Ram released into their care. The Jag was powerful and fast but Vin wondered whether Ezra would be that willing to go off-road, possibly damaging the shock absorbers or even breaking the axle. In contrast the Ram was powerful and all-terrain.

Inside the bar, Buck had turned on the charm and cornered one of the waitresses, reading her name badge.

"Sally," he breathed softly, "a pretty name for a pretty lady."

She giggled, enjoying the attentions from this handsome stranger. They chatted about inconsequential things for a moment before, very carefully, Buck turned the conversation around. His grin froze on his face for a moment when she told him the Buick belonged to Harper Jones. Buck remembered Josiah's description of the old man but he couldn't recall seeing anyone like that in the bar. At a preordained signal, Nathan extricated Buck from the waitress and, together, they returned to the table to tell the others what he had learned.

Josiah looked thoughtful for a moment as he considered the elderly, unkempt man whom he had met earlier that day.

"Jones said his wife was killed last year when she stepped in front of a car. Could be motive enough for revenge... but I doubt the man has the strength to take out someone like Chris."

"Could have if he used mace on Chris first."

Josiah nodded at the reminder from JD before continuing.

"We've been here some time and I don't recall seeing Jones come in."

Nathan drew closer. "I've seen a couple of men pass into that back room. Might be a poker game going on in there."

"Then we sit tight and wait for him to come out."

-ooOOoo-

Two hours passed by slowly before a large man came out of the bar and headed towards the Buick. Vin frowned as he tried to make out the man's features in the poorly lit parking lot. As the man reached the car door Vin jumped up, gun ready and aimed.

"ATF! Freeze!"

The man spun towards him and Vin's eyes widened in recognition of the bruised man who had caught his attention earlier in the bar. The man used Vin's momentary surprise to throw the take-out bottle of beer he was holding, and Vin had to duck fast to miss being smashed on the head. In those few seconds the man managed to get into and start the car. The tires burned rubber as they spun in the dust and gravel, throwing pebbles backwards so hard they became lethal projectiles. Vin screamed towards the Jag, waving his arms madly, adrenaline kicking through his system as he clambered into the passenger seat.

The chase was on.

The Jag had a far more powerful engine, accelerating at an incredible pace. In the distance Vin could just make out the dark shape of the unlit Buick, the Jag eating up the distance between the two cars with ease. Ezra pulled the Jag alongside so Vin was closest to the Buick but the other driver had no intention of stopping. He swerved towards the Jag, forcing Ezra to swerve to avoid being hit. The Jag lost some distance as it ran through the heavy dust and gravel just off the edge of the old highway. It sent plumes of dust and pebbles scattering behind it as Ezra coaxed the Jag into rejoining the road. Moments later they were behind the Buick, unable to get up alongside as each movement was followed by a counter-movement. The speed had climbed, the road beneath flashing passed in a blur.

"Ezra. Back off a little... Ezra!"

Ezra was determined. He tried to get alongside once more and the driver of the battered Buick pulled hard on the wheel to discourage him, but the unknown driver over compensated and lost control. Ezra slammed the brakes on hard, the Jag skittering over the dusty road even though the anti-locking had kicked in. Ahead of them the Buick reached the end of an arc as its back swung round, then it flipped, rolling side over side down the highway, sparks flying as metal struck the ground over and over until the twisted remains slid to a halt, roof down.

Vin was hurtling out of the Jag before the Buick had come to a full stop, racing towards the wreckage. The crumpled figure of a man lay inside, blood pouring from a dozen cuts. Vin grabbed the dying figure by the shirt front, snarling into the man's face.

"Where is he, ya bastard?"

The man coughed, blood bubbling from pale lips, then he sneered, lips curling back in a snarl from blood-coated teeth.

"Dead. 'Cause you'll... never... find..."

The dark, gleeful eyes glazed over then rolled back, a final sigh slipping from the slackened mouth. Vin started to shake the man, screaming at him in impotent rage, shrugging off the arms that wrapped around him from behind, arms that were trying to pin his own to his sides.

"Mr. Tanner! Mr. Tanner! Vin! He's dead. He's dead." Ezra had pulled him away from the bloodied and broken corpse, turning him around until Vin was staring straight into green eyes that appeared almost black in the darkness around them. "He's dead."

"Chris!"

Vin knew he had wailed out the name, his legs folding up beneath him, no longer able to support his weight and, together, he and Ezra crumpled to the ground. He found himself sobbing into Ezra's shoulder, too distraught to care what Ezra would make of it. The last few hours had stripped away the last ragged remnants of a facade of mere friendship for Chris, leaving his shredded soul bare, his love for Chris exposed. After a few minutes the racking sobs dwindled to hiccups and only then did Vin realize exactly where he was and what he was doing. He drew back from the comforting embrace, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his coat sleeve.

"I take it this display was not for our recently departed suspect."

Vin turned his face away, embarrassed now that he realized how open he had been.

"Mr. Tanner... Vin. I was not unaware of your affections for Mr. Larabee. I, too, once harbored a romantic interest in our charismatic leader, but it became obvious to anyone who cared to look closely enough, that his heart was already taken... by you." Ezra gave a wry grin. "Although I am fairly certain Mr. Larabee was not aware of the true direction of his own feelings." He pursed his lips in thought before continuing. "There is a saying 'there are none so blind as they who do not wish to see'." Ezra stood up and held out his hand, bearing the brunt of Vin's weight as he pulled him to his feet. "But I believe you are the right man to open his eyes to... possibilities."

"Ya think he's still alive?"

"I am positive he is still alive. We heard that assertion from this man's own lips before he passed away. All we have to do is try to ascertain where he would have taken his victims."

"We best start making those inquiries then."

"That's the spirit, Mr. Tanner. And I believe the first call should be to the owner of this vehicle, Harper Jones."

Lights approaching in the distance called their attention to the cars fast approaching and they noted that one of these had the flashing blue and red lights of a patrol car. Vin turned to Ezra, unable to look him in the eye.

"'Bout what happened..."

"Do not concern yourself, Mr. Tanner. Your secret is safe with me, although I do believe you will find that I am not the only one to have discovered it."

Vin reddened further as he remembered the solicitude he had received from both Josiah and Buck, wondering if he had been wearing his heart on his sleeve all these months. The group of cars pulled to a halt close by and Ezra found himself explaining the events to the group of men who clambered out.

Sheriff Masters stalked across and shone his flashlight into the face of the dead driver, nodding his head grimly.

"It's Clayton Jones, Harper's boy. Thought Harper said his boy was taking the Buick down to Pinon for an overhaul."

"He obviously found something better to do." Vin shook his head. "Why would Harper Jones lie about this--"

"He didn't."

Vin looked across at Josiah, puzzled by his words and he waited for Josiah to explain.

"He said he'd only seen Mason, the Harris boy and his own car. We should have taken that literally, rather than at face value. He wasn't *driving* his own car at the time."

"Well. At least we know our abductor was a local boy so your friend has to still be somewhere in these parts. I know of a fair number of secluded spots around here," said the sheriff, "I'll call in every officer from Pinon to Fountain to start checking them out."

"In the meantime, I reckon Vin and I will go pay Harper Jones another visit."

Josiah saw assent in every face except for the sheriff, who insisted on going with them, but that was fine by Josiah.

-ooOOoo-

Chris had been awoken from his uneasy sleep by a raging thirst, his initial shock at finding a body pressed against his own lessening when he remembered where he was. His arms felt like lead blocks, still held tightly over his head by duct tape. The weight of the other man upon him had made the pull on his arms even worse and yet he could not find it in himself to make him move. Matt's presence was strangely comforting, knowing he was no longer alone in this nightmare.

Chris hated himself for that selfish thought. His ordeal had only just begun, whereas Matt may have been living with his for some time, and he could not help but wonder if Matt was gaining as much comfort from his presence - or whether Matt saw the arrival of a fresh victim as a death knell for himself.

It was then that part of Chris realized his sense of comfort was merely a remnant from the wonderful dream he had awoken from. He felt tendrils of that dream still coiled warmly around his heart and soul. Somehow, he had managed to fool his mind into believing he was safely wrapped in Vin's arms, and he felt an urge to slip back into that dream world where this grimy shack and its horror no longer existed.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the sight and feel of Vin, pretending the warm skin against his own was Vin's, the masculine arm around his chest - Vin. He felt his flesh stir as he imagined Vin's fingers tracing a path of fire along his body, felt his flesh harden as phantom lips descended upon his throat. He let his mind travel across his body, accompanying those dream caresses until the sound of a shutter banging dragged him back to the real world.

Chris shuddered in horror, his erection wilting at the thought of his rapist returning to find him in such an excited state, re-staking his claim upon Chris's body. The thought of being taken was not as abhorrent as the thought of being taken by that man. He frowned as he considered that revelation, wondering under what circumstances he might be agreeable to having another man touch him so intimately. The answer whispered across his mind in an image; long, curly brown hair cascading over slim shoulders, deep blue eyes promising him more than just a few sweaty moments of sexual release; promising him everything.

Reality washed over him like a bucket of cold water, filling him with self-loathing at the ease by which he had twisted Vin's friendship to provide a refuge for himself in his current nightmare - and then he started to question himself.

How long had he felt this way about Vin? When had this sexual element crept into their deeply platonic friendship? He had never wanted a man before so what had changed about him?

He wanted to blame his interest in Vin on his current predicament, wanted to use it as an excuse - but he couldn't. These feelings for Vin had been there long before he was dumped into the trunk of that Buick; he had just refused to acknowledge them before. He had found excuse after excuse for why his eyes were drawn to the lean frame, why his fingers itched to touch the brown curls, wondering if they were as soft as they looked. He recalled all the pathetic reasons he had used to keep Vin with him, reasons that, at the time, made so much sense. He thought about how eager he was to get to the office each day - and how miserable he was if Vin was not there to greet him, then how his bad mood would evaporate as soon as he heard that soft drawl, or saw a flash of that lean frame.

Chris sobbed beneath the gag and berated himself.

Hell of a time to find out you're in love, Chris.

The burning sting of tears welled in his eyes and he forced his mind away from passionate images of Vin that filled his head, afraid of being found by his rapist in such a state. Instead, he turned his thoughts to the safe but dreadful seminar he had just attended, to the wasted time and boring lectures, letting the non-essential details crowd out the other thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him so completely.

The long hours passed slowly, his fear rising with every slight noise as Chris waited. The man had promised to return in a few hours and, although he had long ago lost track of time, Chris knew that return was imminent.

-ooOOoo-

Harper Jones was not too pleased to be dragged from his bed. He believed in the phrase 'early to bed, early to rise' but not *this* early. He yelled in annoyance as the insistent banging on his screen door continued.

"Hold on, will ya. Give an old man time to get there." He opened the inner door and glared at the three men who stood beyond. "Sheriff Masters! What can I do fer ya?"

"Got some bad news, Harper. Can we come in?"

The blood seemed to drain from the old man's face, his hands starting to shake as he unlocked the screen door.

"It's my boy, isn't it?"

"'Fraid so, Harper."

They followed him back into the untidy kitchen, noticing a new grease-covered plate had been added to the pile of dirty ones in the sink.

"You best sit down. It ain't good news."

"He's dead." The tone was flat, the eyes dulling with shock when no-one denied his statement. "How?"

"He resisted arrest, sped off in that Buick of yours doing God only knows what speed. Lost control. He died at the scene." The Sheriff reached out and laid a hand on the old man's arm. "I'm sorry, Harper... but there's worse."

"Worse than my boy being dead? How can anything be worse?"

"Before he died he admitted to kidnapping that missing driver, but he refused to say where he'd taken him. Said the man's alive at the moment but not for long. Said we'd never find him in time to save him. Gotta feeling that man's going die slowly from lack of food and water, might also be injured."

"I-I don't..."

"Harper. We need to know if Clayton had any special places he could have taken that man. Some place he didn't expect to have anyone come by; some place close yet remote."

"Cain't think of any... used to like the old canyon up at Johnson spring. I don't--"

Masters moved over the side of the room and pulled out his radio, leaving Josiah to carry on speaking with Harper. Masters gave the information to one of his deputies, then looked back at the frail, broken-looking man seated at the rickety kitchen table. He listened as Josiah spoke in slow, measured words.

"Can you think of any other places? Perhaps some place mentioned that might have slipped out one day."

The old man shook his head, his dark eyes glassy with shock, and Masters was uncertain if he was indicating a negative to the ATF agent's question or trying to deny his son's death and the terrible crime they said his son had committed.

They waited in that old kitchen for almost an hour, listening to Harper Jones trying to make some sense of his son's death, forlornly trying to find some excuse for his son's actions.

"He was never a bad boy, but always been secretive... and he loved his mama. Losing his mama like that... he just weren't the same after. Hated them hotshot drivers... said he'd make 'em pay but..."

The radio crackled, the sheriff's call sign and name breaking across the quiet mumbling of the old man. Masters answered the call and saw the faces of the two ATF agent's drop when he shook his head to indicate there was no good news. His people had scanned the canyon, had even taken dogs just in case, but there was no obvious sign of anyone having been there recently.

'Reckon we should try again at first light, over.'

"Yeah. I agree... and I'll send some more boys out there. You can cover more ground and faster that way. Over and out."

"Need to see my boy."

Masters nodded.

"We'll wait here while you get dressed, Harper. Take you there myself." He waited until Harper had left the room then looked at the agents. "Suggest you head back to your motel and wait. I'll contact you at daybreak and we can organize more searches."

Josiah and Vin climbed into Josiah's car and sat there, staring through the windscreen into the darkness beyond. Both of them were deep in thought.

"I'm gonna find him, Josiah. I have to believe that."

-ooOOoo-

Chris opened his eyes, only then realizing that he must have drifted off back to sleep. He noticed there was a slight difference about the room, a lessening of the darkness. He glanced towards the door and noticed the small amount of pre-dawn light seeping round the edges. He tried to stretch, so uncomfortable beneath the weight of the man who still slept soundly, partially draped over him. Chris wished his hands were free so he could rub away the gritty sleep from his eyes but, instead, he had to make do with squeezing the lids together hard then blinking rapidly. For a moment he considered waking Matt but, as the light increased, he could make out the dark shadows under the sleeping man's eyes. As far as he knew, this may have been the best night's sleep Matt had experienced in a long while and Chris was reluctant to wake him from it.

Eventually, as the blackness of the room gave way to gray, Chris felt Matt stirring. The man opened his eyes cautiously, scanning the room through slits, only opening them completely when he was certain their captor was not in the shack. His pale blue eyes widened but Chris had no idea what thoughts had caused such surprise until he heard Matt whisper in disbelief.

"It's morning."

Matt sat up, eyes still scanning the room, looking for some sign that their captor had come back during the night.

"He always comes back. Likes his morning f-f-..."

Matt ducked his head, unable to say the word but Chris understood anyway. Chris made a muffled noise, shouting behind the silver duct tape that still sealed his mouth, pleading for some attention. Matt turned and stared down at him, fear clouding the blue eyes. He swallowed hard, eyes darting towards the door then, visibly, he came to a decision. Matt reached over and started to peel back the edge of the tape but stopped at a noise from outside. They stared into each other's eyes, volumes said with no words passing between them, making Chris ache for Vin Tanner and their own silent connection. Chris's eyes flicked between Matt and the door and they relaxed when it became obvious it was just some small animal skittering over the porch. With reassurance given and accepted, Matt continued with what he had started and Chris groaned in pain as the tape was stripped from his skin, the nerves on his face smarting, bringing tears to his eyes but it was worth the pain just to be able to breath normally again. He spent a few moments stretching his abused jaw.

"Thank you. Will you release my arms too?"

Matthew glanced at the wrists still secured to the bedpost and chewed his bottom lip anxiously as he considered the request. He nodded quickly and set to peeling the duct tape from the bedpost. Chris could not prevent a small cry of pain falling from his cracked and sore lips as the final loop of the tape ripped out the hairs growing around his wrist. He cried out harder still when his arm flopped uselessly to the bed, feeling the shock of pins and needles traveling along his arms as the blood flowed back through his now unrestricted veins. Matt grabbed his arm and rubbed it vigorously between his own hands, doing his best to desensitize the screaming nerve endings. Chris grimaced as he looked at the other wrist, knowing what to expect when that one was released.

Five minutes later Chris was sitting up on the wide bed, rotating his shoulders to try and ease some of the kinks out of his abused muscles. His wrists were tender from hair loss and sore from his struggles to free himself, livid purple bruises standing out against the ivory of the soft inner flesh. He looked down at himself. His torso and legs were a mass of blue, green and purple bruises from kicks that had rained down on him the day before; and his ass was sore. He knew his face had fared no better, could feel the tenderness around the gash on his cheek, and his hair had formed stiff spikes from the mixture of sweat and urine.

"Jeez. Thank God there's no mirror."

Matt snorted, and Chris knew that it was probably the first time the man had found something amusing for quite a while. "Don't reckon either of us would win any beauty contests right now."

Chris reached out and placed his hand on the man's shoulder as Matt's mouth trembled, tears filling the blue eyes. Although he had been there only a short time, he recognized the ragged emotions that charged across Matt's face.

"How long you..?"

"I-I don't know. Lost track of time. It was late April when I set out."

"That's three months ago."

"Three months? Seems like only yesterday I was giving the wife and kids a kiss goodbye, telling them I'd be back in two days. I had a business trip... needed to buy in some new stock."

"What about the others he mentioned?"

"There was another man already here. Said something about going to a job interview in Pueblo. Don't know if he had been there or got taken on the way back... He mentioned something about praying he'd be back with his parents for Christmas. Don't know if that means this Christmas - or last. Have a feeling he was talking about last Christmas which means..."

"Which means he'd been here a long time. What was his name? And where is he now?"

"Greg something or other... but he's dead. Least I think so... hope so."

"What about him?"

"Greg?"

Chris swallowed painfully, his throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper, but he needed to know.

"No. Him. The guy."

Matt shook his head. "He's never let his name slip. I have to call him Sir if I talk to him at all, but I learned it's best not to."

"Well he ain't here right now. Let's see if we can get these chains off."

Chris looked over the end of the bed to the floor, grimacing when he felt the burn in his abused ass. He swore when he realized that the chain was attached to an even thicker metal ring set into concrete. Chris tried tugging, grunting with the exertion, and hoping there would be a weak link they could break, but the short chain was solidly built.

"Damn! Perhaps if we pull together."

Matt looked fearfully from Chris to the door, and Chris felt his heart sink as it became apparent the other man may have fallen too far into his own terror to help him any further. Chris took up the chain and began to pull again. Nothing. He flinched when another pair of hands suddenly grabbed part of the chain, turning his head sideways he gave Matt a grateful smile, seeing a tentative smile in response. Together they pulled but finally they had to lay back on the bed, exhausted.

"Shit!"

"It's not gonna break."

"Let's gather our strength then try one of these other chains. Meantime..."

Chris gave the room another inspection but he was already certain there was nothing within reach that they could use. He tried breaking one of the bedposts but they were six inches thick and, despite the rough-hewn look, the bed was solidly built. The lumpy, stained mattress was little more than padding covered in canvas and a check beneath the mattress showed the bottom of the bed was just as solidly built. Chris swore. If it had been his arms rather than his legs chained then he might have been able to do some damage, perhaps splinter the base of the bed, but the chain was too short to give him enough of an arc for a strong kick. To be honest, he didn't believe it would do any good anyway, except to deprive them of a little comfort while they waited for that monster to return.

"Need to pee."

"What?"

Chris looked at Matt, seeing the man's eyes slide away from his own. He felt his face redden in embarrassment and anger, realizing that Matt had probably traveled down the same degrading road as himself, having to pay for the privilege of relieving himself. Chris was determined not to add to that humiliation.

"Um... wait."

Chris flopped onto his side and reached underneath the bed, fingers at full stretch as he searched for the bedpan. He was certain their abductor had tossed it back under after throwing the contents into his face.

"Got it."

He shoved the bedpan to the side of the bed then looked away, allowing Matt some privacy. While he waited for Matt to finish, Chris sat on the bed and stared into the room beyond.

"Getting hot in here."

Matt snorted, derisively. "Day's only just begun. Going to get worse yet. You okay?"

"Thirsty. Haven't had a drink since yesterday morning."

"Mug. Over there, on the table. He usually fills it with water and leaves it there. Brings it over when he gets back."

"These chains don't stretch that far."

Chris scrubbed a hand through his dirty hair, the grimy white of his dress shirt catching his eye. The front had been ripped open, most of the buttons flying off, but the man had made no other attempt to remove the shirt. Chris slipped the shirt off, wondering if they could use it like a lasso to drag the table back but, unfortunately, there was nothing to loop it over.

He fell back onto the bed, feeling tired and defeated. He knew he had to think of a way to bring that water to them, knew a man couldn't last too long without water in this climate.

-ooOOoo-

"Listen up, everyone."

The auditorium fell silent as the Sheriff glanced around the crowded interior. People from all walks of life were standing shoulder to shoulder: policemen, farmers, store keepers, students and teachers.

"Out there is a man slowly dying. We wanna find him before that happens. I want y'all to spread the word. Ask people to tour their lands, check out all those remote places. He's out there somewhere - and there ain't much time."

A chorus of 'Yeah' and 'Sure will' followed and then the people began to disperse. Masters waited a moment then turned to the six ATF agents who were standing behind him.

"This'll bring in the vultures... the media, but I cain't think what else to do. Just gonna have to pray one of these people find him."

"Where can we look?"

"Perhaps ya can split up. Join one of my deputies apiece. Least that way you'll know if something turns up."

"Vin?"

"I'm going back to Harper Jones's farm... go check out his land, just in case he's forgotten some place his son used to go hide."

"Good idea... take Nathan with ya."

Vin nodded sharply then turned away. He was tired; his eyes feeling like they were caked in grit. His mind returned to the beautiful dream that had come to him last night.

When he had succumbed to sleep he had found Chris waiting for him, giving him that special smile Chris seemed to reserve just for him, and Chris had reached out. The strong arms had enfolded him, drawing him against the lean, muscular chest. Hard yet gentle fingers had teased beneath his T-shirt, tracing the line of his shoulder blades as they journeyed across his bare flesh. Vin had nuzzled into Chris's neck, breathing in the musky scent of this most precious man, smiling as the feather strands of golden hair tickled his nose.

"Chris."

He had whispered his lover's name softly, his own arms sliding down Chris's naked back to cup the firm globes of his ass. He kneaded the silken flesh, pressing the man tighter against him, moaning softly as he felt Chris's hardened shaft bump against his own. He had ground his hips against Chris, jolts of electricity flickering along his nerves as the sensitive tip of his shaft had slid freely in the mixed precome smearing across their bellies. Vin had held on tighter, rocking harder, his senses heightened by the appreciative moans and gasps falling from the luscious lips. As the moment came over him, he had stiffened, his mouth finding Chris's, his tongue thrusting deep inside in possessive arrogance.

When he had awoken, Vin had felt ashamed of the sticky mess coating his belly even as his body still thrummed with the pleasure and passion of that dream encounter. He had sighed, grabbing some Kleenex to wipe himself off.

He hadn't been able to sleep for the rest of the night; not wanting to lose the image or the warm feelings those phantom arms had instilled in him.

"I want ya so bad, Chris. I need ya. I gotta find ya."

"Vin?"

"Sorry, Nate. Just thinking aloud... remembering"

"You know they already checked out Jones's place?"

"Yeah. Just wanna make sure they didn't miss something. Come on. Sooner we get there, sooner we know for sure."

-ooOOoo-

Although it was difficult to gauge the time, Chris knew another couple of hours had passed. The shack had become as hot as the inside of a baker's oven and they had lain down on the bed, trying not to touch, gasping for air and water.

"Something's wrong. He should have come back by now."

"What if he don't come back?"

Chris listened to the fear tingeing Matt's voice. If their abductor did not come back then their chances of living through another day were slim to non-existent. With this heat they needed water to live. Already his tongue felt like an alien creature, thick and heavy in his dry mouth. His throat felt scratchy, and it had started to hurt when he tried to swallow let alone talk, and his heart was racing as if he had been exercising hard rather than just lying on the soiled bed.

An idea came to him. It was not great but it was the only option open to them.

Sitting up, he grabbed an end of the shirt in each hand and twisted the material. He tied a knot in one end to give him a firm handhold then flicked the other end of the shirt out, flipping the mug over. The precious water flowed across the table top but, with quick deft movements, Chris unraveled the shirt and, holding the knot securely in his hand, flung the shirt over the table top, letting the water soak up into the material. He dragged the sodden mass back and both of them started sucking the moisture from the cloth, uncaring of the stale sweat that clung to the cotton. There was barely enough to take the edge of his thirst and, all too soon, the heat in the room evaporated the remainder of the water, leaving the material stiff and dry.

Chris lay back down, eyes closing, throat too dry to make any further attempt at small talk, and he let his thoughts drift.

He once believed that only a lucky man was ever granted a true love, and he considered himself a lucky man because he had found that with Sarah. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman and he never believed anything could ever be better than the joy he felt when he took her into his arms. Then Adam came along and filled a place in his heart, and in his life, that he had never realized was empty until that moment, but it wasn't to last. There had been little left to identify after the bomb blast had torn through his home - of them and of his life. The spaces they had filled became gaping holes, open wounds that oozed an all-consuming anger and rage. It had taken three years for the scabs to start forming over those raw wounds in his soul, but it had taken a pair of sky blue eyes, and the friendship offered, to start the real healing process.

If someone had told him three years ago that he would be lucky again, that he would find another soul-mate then he would have spat in his or her face. If they had told him that this soul-mate would be another man then he most probably would have taken out his gun and shot them. Strange how much could change in a few short years, but then, he was not the man he used to be. The Chris Larabee that had fallen in love with and married Sarah Connelly was long dead. The empty shell had started to fill again, but without all the emotional baggage of his previous existence as husband and father.

As he lay on the bed, sweltering in the late afternoon heat, he realized he had been a captive long before he had been abducted off the highway. He had been chained to the past: to Sarah and Adam, to their deaths - and then to the perceptions of his youth. He gave a wry grin. His father would have taken a strap to his bare backside if he had so much as mentioned 'alternative lifestyles' in his presence. It wasn't that his father was religious or bigoted, just completely unaccepting of the fact that two people of the same gender could love each other as much as he had adored Chris's mother.

Chris had never stopped to analyze this absurdity before, probably because it had never struck him one way or the other until now - until Vin. It wasn't that he had never noticed other men before, just never dwelt on the attraction he felt for another strong male body, whether it be living flesh in the gym or on a two-dimensional figure on an advertising billboard.

Beside him Matt moved, his hot sweaty body pressing up against Chris's side for a moment, but it was enough, strangely, to dislodge him from his thoughts of other male bodies.

The silence seemed as thick as the heated air around them, for they had neither the energy nor the inclination to talk. His stomach had given up growling its protest at the lack of food some time back, leaving him feeling weak and hollow. With a feeling of dread curling in his empty belly, Chris began to wonder if he would be relieved to see their captor come through that door, and whether a few more days of hunger would have him offering himself in exchange for a mouthful of moldy bread and cheese - or for a mug of tepid water.

-ooOOoo-

With night falling fast, Nathan brought the car to a halt, letting the engine tick over quietly.

"It's gonna be dark soon, Vin. Ain't gonna do much more good out here today."

Nathan sighed as he watched Vin scrub his hands through the unruly curls.

"Just feel he's so close. Like I could just reach out an' touch him. Every time we turned a corner or came over a rise I got to thinking... this is it, he'll be here."

"Yeah. Felt the same. If they don't find him by morning then we'll come right back to this spot... carry on the search."

Vin nodded tiredly. They had pressed on without more than a few short breaks - and only taken those at Nathan's insistence. Each time they paused in the search, Vin would find himself pacing back and forth like a bobcat in a cage, even demanding to drive rather than wait for Nathan to finish a sandwich or sip some water. His own sandwich lay untouched on the back seat, his stomach churning too much in worry, his appetite lost through his fear for Chris.

When they got back to the motel they found a despondent group of men waiting for them. Without a word they all walked out and headed for the bar, needing to drown their fear in a shot or two of whiskey. The flicker of the neon lights seemed too bright and gaudy as they crossed the parking lot but the darkened interior suited their spirits just fine. They found the same table near the back that they had used the night before and they arranged themselves around it, staring at the wooden tabletop, deep in their own thoughts.

"What'll you guys have?"

Josiah glanced up into the pretty face of Sally, the waitress from the night before.

"Bring us a bottle of whiskey and... sev... six glasses."

Josiah squinted away his anger at his own near-slip. He had almost asked for seven glasses. From the corner of his eye he had noticed Vin wince at the number and when he looked at the others he noticed that their heads were either turned away or fixed on the tabletop. It was so stupid. There had been plenty of times when they had gone to Inez's bar without one or two - or even more - of the others, but never without knowing where those others were, and never without knowing if those others were alive or dead.

Sally hesitated for a moment then walked back to the bar, returning moments later with the bottle and six glasses as requested. No one touched them for many a long minute until, with a deep sigh, Ezra opened the bottle and sloshed some whiskey into each glass. He knocked back his own quickly, lips curling back from bared teeth as the rough house whiskey burned its way down his throat to coil warmly in his almost empty belly. The others followed suit, grimacing for a moment before slamming down their glasses. Vin reached out and refilled them.

"Reckon they do food here?"

"Don't know, Nate, but I could do with something right now."

"A juicy, rare steak with..."

"How can you guys be thinking about food when Chris is out there--" JD interrupted Buck's fantasy meal, shaking his head in disbelief, only to be cut short by Buck.

"JD. Starving ourselves isn't gonna helped Chris any. Ya hear me, Vin?"

Vin nodded, slugging back another shot of gut-rot whiskey. "I hear ya, Buck."

If Ezra was disappointed that the bar food only went as far as burgers and fries swimming in grease he did not let on, except for an initial spasm of revulsion on his face as he picked up the mess and took a first bite.

"Not bad... considering."

"Considering this is all they got."

Ezra gave Nathan a wry grin and continued eating. They finished the meal and half the bottle of whiskey in silence. JD looked up, his young eyes looking suddenly very old and world-weary.

"What we gonna do now, Buck?"

"We are gonna go back to that flea pit motel and get some sleep. Then we're gonna get up tomorrow and start looking all over again."

-ooOOoo-

It was the feel of Matt's body snuggling up to him that brought Chris wide-awake once more. The shack had been plunged back into darkness, the temperature dropping rapidly with the setting of the sun. He noticed that Matt had pulled on his ragged dress shirt but couldn't feel the need to dispute the loss.

Chris turned onto his side, grateful Matt had managed to unhook the leg chains from the metal pins that had been driven into the lower sides of the bed, giving him a little more freedom of movement. It certainly beat being forced to lay there on his back with his legs wide apart like some virgin sacrifice. Further attempts to break the chains had met with failure and Chris knew they were pinning all their hopes on somebody finding them before they died from dehydration.

Chris relaxed once more, knowing there was nothing he could do but hold on. He closed his eyes, recalling the wonderful dream where he and Vin had held each other so close, mouths and hands caressing heated flesh, slowly bringing him to the very edge. They had tumbled over that edge together, floating back down to earth to land safely in each other's warm embrace.

The dream had been so good. There had been so much passion and yet they had not had just sex... he and Vin had made love. Chris knew the difference, his memory flitting between the warmth of Sarah's embrace compared to the few sweaty moments of release he had found with others since her death. With Vin he had felt that same security and warmth. He had felt loved and he knew it was not just wishful thinking. This ordeal had left him with plenty of time to think, and plenty of time to decipher that special look on Vin's face that seemed to be reserved just for him. Now he felt sure it was love he had seen in those eyes - for him.

Chris pressed close to Matt's back, wrapping one hand over the man's waist under the shirt, residual feelings from that dream still floating inside him. He felt a moment of horror when he realized his shaft was filling at the touch of warm flesh pressed against his own and started to pull away. Matt's hand grabbed his arm, holding him firmly in place.

"It's okay. Autonomic body function. Know it don't mean you want me, though I suspect you wish I was this Vin." Chris froze in shock. The hand patted his arm in reassurance. "You kept calling for him in your sleep."

Wondering whether Matt could feel the heat pouring off his reddened cheeks, Chris moved his hand down to his inner thigh but found no stickiness of spent passion. He breathed a soft sigh of relief, only to feel his cheeks heat further when a soft chuckle came from in front.

"You didn't wake up after, so I cleaned you up with your shirt."

"And now you're wearing it?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, and I've endured worse. Plus it gets cold here at night... so unless you want to vacate that warm spot..."

Matt trailed off questioningly and Chris noticed that Matt was lying between him and rest of the draughty room, protecting him from some of the cold night air.

"I'll let ya keep the shirt."

"Mighty gracious of you."

The man chuckled again and Chris realized why he liked that sound so much: Vin chuckled exactly the same way, with the same deep yet boyish resonance. In the dark it was easy for Chris to conjure up Vin's face; those deep blue eyes, shyly smiling at him, the gentle curl of his lips, one side rising higher than the other as he winked at him slyly. There was a wistfulness in that expression; he had seen it on Vin's face so many times over the past few months, especially when he caught Vin unawares, staring at him.

Now he felt sure he understood what he had been seeing all this time - love - and he felt a pang of regret that it had taken him too long to figure it out. Despair filled him as he realized that it was now too late for them.

Matt pushed back against him, wrapping his arm back around Chris's lean waist for a moment. Chris could feel the hardened length of the man's body pressed along him from chest to thigh, the stiff cotton of the shirt rubbing against his nipples, the heated flesh of ass against his own hot flesh. He could feel his own softened sex nestling in the dip just below Matt's ass cheeks, could feel the coarser hair on the back of Matt's thighs tickling his skin.

Knowing there might be little time remaining to him, Chris pushed aside all concerns about the rightness or wrongness of his feelings for Vin. He closed his eyes once more and allowed himself to pretend it was Vin snuggled up in front of him and, ignoring his thirst and hunger with great difficulty, eventually he found himself drifting back into an uneasy sleep.

-ooOOoo-

Daybreak found Vin Tanner already dressed and waiting by the side of Nathan's car. He nodded a greeting and clambered inside once Nathan unlocked the car, ignoring the concern in Nathan's eyes at his ragged appearance. He knew he was unshaven, his hair wild and tangled. He knew his eyes had that hollow, haunted look of a man near the edge but he had no time for himself. It was thoughts of finding Chris that held his full attention.

They set off immediately towards Jeb's diner and pulled into a vacant parking space just outside the door.

Vin endured the wait in the car stoically, knowing it would waste even more time if he started arguing with Nathan. Nathan could be as stubborn as any of them when the mood took him, and it always did when he was worrying about one of the team. In this instance, Vin knew that worry was more for him than for Chris and he did his best to appease Nathan when a sandwich was thrust into his lap. Vin took a small nibble followed by several hasty bites of the bacon and fried egg sandwich, wiping away a spill of runny golden yolk with his fingers.

"Better?"

Vin nodded gratefully. He had to admit that there were times when Nathan proved he knew far better what was good for the rest of them, Vin included. That sandwich was exactly what Vin had not realized he needed.

Nathan bit deep into his own sandwich and once they had polished off the quick by substantial breakfast, Nathan started the car and they headed back out to Harper Jones's place to carry on the search where they had left off.

-ooOOoo-

Morning brought only renewed misery for Chris and his fellow captive. The sun was already starting to heat up the interior of the shack and Chris was certain that neither of them would be able to make it through another day without more water.

The hours passed slowly as Chris watched a strip of sunlight, sneaking through the ill-fitting frame of the doorway, gradually move as the sun passed overhead. He could feel the rapid beating of his heart and hear the dry rasp of his ragged breathing catching in his throat. His eyes were becoming unfocused and his head was pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat. He knew all the signs of severe dehydration, knew he was approaching the fine line where his body would start to give up, his internal organs closing down.

Matt had slipped into a deep sleep a short while earlier, and it seemed the kindest thing he could do for him was to let him go, knowing he might be following him before too long anyhow. Some time during the long night Chris had rolled onto his back and he used his ebbing strength to cradled Matt's head upon his shoulder, stretching out beside the almost comatose man. He glanced down at the thin, battered face, taking in the sunken eyes and taut skin, a smile full of regret tilting the edges of his cracked lips. If things had been different then he would like to have known Matt better - perhaps as a friend. He had a feeling Vin would have liked this man too.

Chris held firmly onto Matt's hand and, finally, let his own eyelids droop closed.

-ooOOoo-

"God! Jerry! Jerry! Get in here fast."

Dustin Townsend heard the thumping of footsteps on the wooden porch, then he heard the sharp intake of breath as Jerry came to a halt beside him. His own eyes were glued to the two naked, chained and beaten bodies lying far too still on the grimy bed in the far corner of the room. Jerry pushed passed him, and Dustin watched as Jerry, hesitantly, approached the bed, nose wrinkling up at the distasteful smell of stale sweat and urine. Dustin drew closer as Jerry reached out a tentative hand to touch the bare shoulder of the closest man, both of them jumping back with a gasp of shock when the man twitched and moaned softly before lapsing back into stillness.

"Fuck! He's still alive."

He saw Jerry fumbling in the pocket of his jacket, bringing out a cellphone, then cursing when his shaking fingers lost their grip and it crashed to the floor.

"Shit!"

Jerry grabbed it up from the floor and dialed 911, and, as Dustin watched the fingers stabbing on the keypad, he could only hope the signal was strong enough to get through. His sigh of relief echoed Jerry's when he heard the operator respond.

"My name is Jerry Harris. I'm at the old line shack on the far edge of my Dad's property. I've found two men here. They're in pretty bad shape."

Dustin frowned and moved closer to the men, morbid curiosity outweighing his fear.

"Yeah... reckon they can't have had any water... they're chained up... one of them's covered in bruises."

Jerry turned to Dustin, visibly pulling himself together as he took control.

"Helps on its way but we gotta get them some water now... else their hearts'll give out."

Dustin nodded, relieved to finally have something positive to do. He raced back outside to his motorbike and grabbed a bottle of water from his backpack then rushed back inside, dashing straight over to the men even as his hands were busily unscrewing the cap.

"No. She said to wet a handkerchief, press it to their mouths, let them suck the water out - else they'd be sick and that'll make things worse."

Dustin reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp, folded handkerchief, silently thanking his mother who always insisted he carried a clean one each day. He ripped it in two and handed one piece to Jerry, then let the water soak his half and handed over the bottle. Dustin dropped to his knees beside the bed, nearly tipping over the used bedpan.

"Fuck!"

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

He pressed the wet cloth against the nearest man's lips, stoically ignoring the smell of urine that hovered so strongly around the man. The man murmured then, instinctively, started to suck at the precious liquid. His hand came up, weakly grabbing at the cloth and Dustin felt shocked at the livid bruising around the man's wrists, trying not to hurt the man further as he pushed the arm aside.

"No, mister. Let me do it."

"Matt."

Dustin could barely understand the croaked whisper but heavy eyes had opened to show slivers of green and the man used them to indicate towards the other lying next to him.

"He's being seen to, mister. You just concentrate on yourself."

Dustin grabbed the bottle back and saturated the cloth again, and then he pressed it against the man's lips once more. His eyes flicked towards his friend's concerned face then both of them sighed in relief when the other man finally began to respond. They kept it up, dripping water into each of the men until the bottle was used up.

"Gotta be a well or spring 'round here. I'll be back."

Jerry raced out of the shack leaving Dustin alone with the two dehydrated and battered men. He looked between the two chained men, appalled by their condition, noting the black rings around sunken eyes that spoke of serious dehydration. He remembered the lectures at school about making sure you drank enough water, remembered being told the consequences of not heeding that advice. He never thought he'd ever see it for real and hoped he had done enough to prevent either man dying before the expert help arrived. He looked carefully at each man.

"Is one of you a Chris Larabee?"

The blond, green-eyed man nodded his head weakly, a small attempt to frown putting two vertical lines over his nose. Dustin stared into the bruised face and grinned.

-ooOOoo-

When the radio crackled, Vin struck like a cobra, grabbing it before Nathan had time to take his hand off the steering wheel.

"Tanner."

'Report. Two youths have located two casualties at the far southern edge of the Harris Ranch. Grid reference...'

"Two?"

Nathan had brought the car to a halt and was busy trying to locate the indicated place on the map. His eyes widened when he realized they were barely two miles from the spot. He grabbed the radio from Vin.

"This is Agent Jackson. We are at the north end of the Jones property. ETA at the given location is approximately ten minutes. Over."

'Roger, Agent Jackson. Air ambulance is in flight. ETA seventeen minutes. Over and out.'

He threw radio and map onto Vin's lap and swung the wheel hard around, accelerating quickly, heedless of the bumpy ride as they drove along a seldom-used track. Seven minutes later he came around a bend in the track to find a young man turning at the sound of their car engine, then running towards them, hands waving frantically before indicating towards the shack.

Nathan pulled to a halt in front of the old line shack, delaying only so he could get his field medical kit from the trunk. By the time he entered the shack he could see Vin already kneeling down beside one of the men, Vin's hand stroking through matted blond hair. Vin looked up, treating Nathan to the most gorgeous grin he had ever seen from the man. Nathan knelt down next to Vin, smiling warmly into tired, sunken green eyes, deliberately hiding his horror and fear from both men.

"You've had us real worried, Chris."

Vin's hand never stopped, needing to touch Chris to prove to himself that he was alive.

Nathan looked round. "Vin, reckon we need to break these chains afore the paramedics arrive."

Vin looked down at Chris, his eyes narrowing in reluctance, not wanting to let Chris out of his sight now that he had found him, but he realized Chris and the other man needed Nathan's medical expertise far more than him right now. He rose to his feet and stripped off his jacket, lying it across the two naked figures to afford them some dignity; aware neither was in a position to ask for it for themselves. Vin gave a tight nod and started talking to the two young men who had found Chris, eventually following them outside. A few minutes later he returned with a hammer, chisel and a small piece of concrete. The boys knelt down either side of Vin, keeping the chain taut while Vin hammered through one of the links. He decided not to waste time trying to get the ankle bracelets off, preferring to leave that to the experts who had the right tools for the job, knowing that the chisel could easily slip and damage flesh instead of metal.

By the time he had released both men from the solid ring concreted into the floor, Vin could hear the sound of a helicopter approaching fast. He frowned, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully as he stared at the battered figure lying on the bed. As much as he hated to leave Chris's side, he knew he had a role to play in keeping him alive.

"I'll go lead them in."

Vin reached down and touched Chris one more time, reaffirming himself of his existence before he started to turn away. Weak fingers grasped at his own and Vin glanced back into dull eyes that were still more beautiful to him than any others, seeing something in the green depths that made his heart start to sing. He nodded, volumes said in that single moment before he carried on to the door.

-ooOOoo-

Chris let go of the slim fingers, able to rest now he had exposed the depths of his feelings for Vin - and seen a mirrored response from the younger man. More figures appeared above him and he let himself be manhandled by them, hardly wincing as they attached an IV as it was just one small pinprick against the myriad of pains from the abuse he had suffered at his abductor's hands. They asked him a lot of questions which he just did not have the strength to answer, ran their hands over his heavily bruised ribs to check for cracks or breaks, ignoring his weak protest of pain, but he knew he had come out of that beating lightly.

When they lifted him onto the stretcher, he found the breath hissing between his teeth, his abused muscles had stiffened and he ached all over. Vin walked beside him as he was carried to the waiting helicopter, holding his hand in a secure yet light grip, unwilling to let go even when they reached the air ambulance. With great reluctance he felt the fingers slip away.

"See ya soon, Cowboy."

Chris nodded, dredging up a smile even though he hated this small parting as much as Vin. He kept his eyes glued to the lean frame until the door was slid closed, shutting out his sight of Vin. Matt was already on-board, and as soon as Chris's stretcher was secured, the helicopter took off.

A hand reached across the gap and touched his arm. Chris looked over and was surprised to see Matt's pale blue, tear-filled eyes staring across at him. His own hand reached out to hold onto Matt's, his eyes offering the other man reassurance that their ordeal had finally come to an end.

-ooOOoo-

As they waited at the hospital for news, Vin's thoughts returned to the line shack, and to his last sight of Chris as they loaded the beaten and dehydrated body into the air ambulance. He had raced back to Nathan's car as soon as the helicopter took off, urging Nathan to put his foot down harder on the gas as they headed off the Harris property and back onto the highway, heading south to the interstate - and Pueblo. Nathan had given him one of those resigned looks, admonishing him about the dangers of speeding, spouting stuff about how it wouldn't do no good if they ended up at the same hospital but for the wrong reason. Nevertheless, they soon caught up with a familiar looking Suburban, falling in convoy behind Josiah and JD, and soon after, Ezra's Jag brought up the rear with Buck in the passenger seat.

By the time they reached the hospital, Chris had already been down for X-rays but was still being checked over and cleaned up so no one was allowed in to see him. They had ranged themselves around the waiting lounge; each man falling into familiar postures that displayed their own idiosyncrasies when confronted by a frustrating wait.

Ezra had produced a pack of cards from somewhere and was busy shuffling the deck, over and over, having failed to find any willing partners for a 'game of chance'. Eventually he sat down and started to deal out a game of solitaire. Although he won game after game, his expression never changed, treating no one to his infamous grin of triumph.

JD was fighting evil aliens on his gameboy, seemingly lost in his extraterrestrial encounters until you noticed how his eyes flicked towards the door every time someone walked past. His usual repertoire of frustrated 'damn' and excited 'yeah' was strangely missing and, eventually, he put aside any pretense that he was enjoying the game and replaced the gameboy in his pocket. He offered to do errands, disappearing off for coffee.

Josiah was seated in a quiet corner, book in one hand but Vin wondered if he actually saw the words for he rarely flicked over a page. Instead he seemed to be deep in thought, eyes almost closed, his lips moving from time to time as if saying a mantra or prayer.

Buck paced the room, collaring anyone who moved too close, driving everyone insane, including the staff, but it didn't annoy Vin. He knew Buck cared deeply for Chris, they all did, and this was his way of showing it, pacing like a mother bear parted from a wounded cub. In addition, it meant Vin did not have to be the one making all the demands and making all the fuss.

Nathan slipped in and out of the room, acting as a go-between, dragging information out of nurses and doctors at every opportunity and then relaying the information back to the others. He had even had a glimpse of Chris when they brought him back after having the X-rays taken, and it was only then that Vin realized how close Chris had been to death when they found him. He learned that it had been touch and go for him. His cardiovascular system had been on the brink of collapse when he was discovered and he would have been dead inside an hour if they had not found him when they did. Matt had fared marginally better; his coma induced as much by exhaustion as by dehydration, his mind closing down as a survival instinct.

When a doctor finally strode into the room they were all crowded around him in moments.

"I have a Buck Wilmington listed as next of kin."

"That's me."

"Perhaps if I might have a word."

"Nothing you can't say in front of all of us."

"I would prefer to speak with you privately, nonetheless."

Buck looked across and caught Vin's eyes, and Vin saw those eyes narrow in compassion before hardening.

"O-kay, but Vin comes too."

The doctor nodded in reluctant agreement and headed out, followed by Buck. Vin stood frozen for a moment, surprised that Buck would demand his presence, but quickly pulled himself together and loped off after them.

They entered a small room just along the corridor. The doctor turned to face them then launched into his treatment of the dehydration and most of the injuries.

"There is one more..."

He trailed off, looking from one man to the other then drew a deep breath and Vin could see that the doctor was wondering how he could phrase this news. Vin spoke up first, his voice low and serious.

"It's about the rape."

The doctor's eyes widened, mouth falling open before snapping shut with an audible click of teeth meeting. Vin looked sideways at Buck and saw shock cross the handsome face.

"Then you *are* aware that he was sexually assaulted."

"Saw him at the scene. Saw the blood, and figured it out pretty quick."

"I see."

"Well, I don't."

Both the doctor and Vin turned to face a distraught Buck, hearing a voice thick with emotion. Buck's eyes held an accusation as he looked deep into Vin's eyes.

"Ya knew, and ya didn't say anything?"

"Hoped I was wrong, Buck."

"Goddamn it!!"

Vin ducked his head as Buck turned away with a face expressing impotent rage, hands running through his short brown hair, trying to find something physical he could lash out at. Vin knew that feeling all too well, had found himself wishing Clayton Jones was still alive so he could kick the living shit out of the guy. The doctor brought both of them back from their respective fantasies of revenge.

"Physically, he's going to be fine. There was no serious damage. I can allow one or two visitors but only for a few minutes... and only so long as you take it quiet and easy."

Vin nodded, knowing he would agree to anything to have a chance to see Chris but aware there was no way the others would agree to wait outside - and he had no intention of stopping them from seeing Chris. They were a team but, more than that, they were friends. He saw his feelings were mirrored in Buck's pain-filled eyes, a moment of silent agreement passing between them, that they would keep this aspect of Chris's abduction from the others until Chris was strong enough to deal with their reactions.

Ten minutes later, the six of them were crowded outside the room where Chris was resting, each man internally gathering his thoughts and emotions together before stepping into the private room.

-ooOOoo-

Chris watched carefully as the six men slipped into his room, his eyes lingering longest on Vin.

He knows!

The thought went circling around his head that Vin knew what that man had done to him, and it frightened him. What if Vin blamed him for what happened? What if Vin felt he deserved every bit of it? What if he was disgusted by him, that he had allowed another man to rape him? Chris looked at the others.

Who else knows?

Chris found himself chewing his lip, unaware that he was breaking open the scabs forming over the cracked flesh until he felt a trickle of blood which he, surreptitiously, wiped away. When Buck finally met his eyes, Chris saw the knowledge of his rape written there as plain as day... and Nathan, the compassion was coming off the man in waves but it was unsurprising that Nathan would know what had happened to him. What might not have been obvious in the line shack would have become apparent here at the hospital, and Nathan was in the unenviable position of being able to gain access to that information.

Josiah? Ezra? JD?

Of the others there was no sign of anything bar the deep-seated anger of seeing him like this. He could feel the raw emotions hanging heavy in the air. They had all been hurt before, at some time or another, but Chris sensed the feeling that this time it was different. He had not been an ATF officer captured and beaten in the course of his duty; he had been Chris Larabee, an ordinary man dragged away in broad daylight by a madman, to be beaten like a dog - and raped.

"Hey there, pard." Buck sank onto the chair by his side, false levity in his voice. "Gave me quite a scare. Thought I'd have to deal with this bunch of misfits all by myself."

A chorus of equally restrained voices followed but Chris noticed that Vin remained silent. He wished he and Vin were alone, desperate to know what Vin thought of him now, but Chris hid all his fears behind a tired mask.

At his quiet insistence, they outlined their actions in locating him, quickly filling him in on what had happened to his rapist: Clayton Jones.

Clayton Jones. It seemed strange to be able to put a name to the man who had taken so much from him in so short a time. Chris noticed the way Vin's jaw clenched when that hated name was mentioned and knew he was hiding something, but there was something else he needed to know first.

"Matt mentioned another man... Greg."

Josiah sighed almost inaudibly but the others heard and turned to him questioningly. He felt he had no choice but to offer up the information.

"Sheriff Masters called 'bout an hour ago. They found Greg Kawalski's remains in a grave behind the shack."

"How did he..?"

"Autopsy's scheduled for later today--"

"But, Mr. Sanchez?"

Josiah gazed at Ezra, seeing the adamant expression on his face, and Chris realized Josiah knew far more than he was letting on. His intuition was proved with Josiah's next words and he felt a tremor of fear race through him, instinctively knowing what was coming next because of the stilted conversation he had with Matt on and off through those long hours of captivity. He needed to know though, he wanted to lay aside the frightening images that had formed in his head, and only the truth could do that.

"This can wait."

"No. It can't wait, Josiah."

Josiah looked back down at the fragile man lying on the bed, seeing the livid bruises against the white pallor of his skin; both of them knowing how close Chris had come to the same grisly end. Chris could see him internally weighing up his choices as their eyes met, but he would not back down. He *needed* to know for his own peace of mind. Eventually, Josiah relented with a long sigh.

"By the amount of blood on the lower half of the blanket his body was found wrapped in, they reckon his gut was perforated--"

"He was shot?"

"Knifed?"

Josiah found the words sticking in his throat as he gazed from Ezra to JD.

"Say it as it is, Josiah."

Chris found his softly spoken words hovering over all of them, catching their attention as if he had shouted. Light blue eyes, full of compassion, met Chris's, telling him what he needed to know, and preparing him for the words that followed.

"They believe he was violently raped."

Chris was surprised when JD looked away without any sign of shock appearing on his face.

"JD?"

JD's looked back, his face turning crimson with embarrassment.

"I caught it on the local news channel."

"When?" Buck frowned as he questioned the younger man.

"When I went for the coffee--"

"Damn! Thought you were gone a long time. What happened? What did they say?"

"Reporters must have reached the shack just after they airlifted Chris and the other fella out. They had footage of the interior... of-of the bed where Vin and Nathan found Chris. Showed the blood on the mattress, the chains and remnants of duct tape, on the floor, around the bedposts. They showed the local cops doing a search outside, and they were there when the body was discovered."

Chris sank back into the sheets, suddenly aware that it was likely that all of them suspected what had happened to him. He was not sure what to think of it, was not certain whether he ought to hide the sordid facts from his friends - and they *were* friends rather than just colleagues - or whether he should let the truth out. He was ashamed that he had allowed himself to fall into a situation where someone could do such terrible things to him, so there was a strong temptation to deny the anal rape. As far as Chris was aware, the only people who knew for certain about that were the Doctors and nurses who had treated him - and even then, only he and Clayton Jones knew that it was the man's penis rather than some other object that had been rammed up him. The condom had ensured there was no semen inside him, and he could not recall the doctor finding any stray pubic hairs from Clayton.

"Weren't yer fault, Chris."

Chris looked up into the sky blue eyes, realizing this was the first thing Vin had said to him since he arrived at the hospital, but he knew Vin was not talking about Greg Kawalski. Chris noticed Ezra was gazing from one man to another around the room, silently registering the uneasy shuffling of feet, and he came to a decision. If he could not trust these six special men with the truth then he may as well give up on everything. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

"He... He raped me too... and he forced..."

Chris trailed off, unsure what he could say about the rest. Should he admit that he let Matt suck him off just so they could both be spared another rape from Jones? What would they think of him then, knowing that he participated, willingly, in this second rape? Or could that even be called rape seeing how he allowed it to happen?

Silence. Chris continued to stare down at the bed covers, concentrating hard on the weave of the light blanket, afraid to meet anyone's eyes in case he saw abhorrence, or worse still, pity. He could hear shuffling noises and assumed they were all leaving. Chris closed his eyes, and then he heard it, a soft expletive from an unexpected source.

"Bastard! I apologize for restraining you, Mr. Tanner."

Chris looked up at that cryptic remark and saw the self-directed anger in the bright green eyes as Ezra talked to Vin.

"It's okay, Ez. Like ya said, man was dead anyways. Wouldn't have hurt him none."

"True, but it would have gone a long way in appeasing my own sense of outrage at that... animal's abuse."

"Hell, Ezra. If any of us had known what he'd done, his body would have been played like a soccer ball. Kicked from one side of the highway to the other."

Chris was confused as Buck's anger-filled voice jumped in. He had expected them to be angry - with him. Asking him how he could let that happen to him but instead... He took another deep breath as Buck's hand patted his own.

"Vin's right. Weren't your fault, Chris, so don't go searching for reasons to blame yourself."

They were all ordered out a few minutes later and Chris was disappointed when Vin made no attempt to stay behind. The room fell silent but he resisted the urge to put on the television or radio, not wanting to catch a broadcast relating to his recent ordeal. Instead, he lay staring up at the ceiling as day gave way to night, letting his thoughts carry him away to happier times, refusing to dwell on these past few days.

There was a small commotion out in the corridor some time later, the sound of both familiar and unfamiliar raised voices, but then they died away. A nurse came in to check on him periodically, replacing the empty IV bag with another. He wanted to ask her about it; was it just saline or was it something else, something like the stuff they gave Adam when he was really sick that time, to ensure he didn't get dehydrated. The opportunity to ask came and went without a word being spoken.

"Do you want me to switch on the TV?"

Chris shook his head.

"Okay. Dinner is on its way... but you only get soup today. Afraid your stomach won't take anything more solid just yet."

He gave her another tired nod and she left the room without him giving her a second glance. After dinner the doctor returned and told him to expect to feel lethargic, told him his body had been through quite an ordeal. Chris could have laughed in his face but was afraid he would hit the man instead so he looked away.

What did this man know about his ordeal?

The nurse returned ten minutes later and injected something into the IV tube. The something became apparent soon after as he felt his eyes drooping closed. His last thought before sleep claimed him was a hope that Vin would return to him in his dreams.

-ooOOoo-

Vin stood on the threshold of the private room in which they had placed Chris for overnight observation. He had wanted to stay earlier but had felt awkward with everyone else around. It was far easier to leave with the rest and sneak back here later while the others looked for a motel for the night. He paused just inside the darkened room, staring at the still figure lying on the bed, his memory of that first moment when he entered the dilapidated shack awoken by the uncomfortably similar position.

Then he had feared the worst when he saw his friend lying naked and chained in that darkened, dirty line shack. The blazing sunlight spilling through the door had highlighted the ivory skin covered in black, purple and green bruises, many in the shape of boot prints, and with red raw marks around his wrists and ankles. As he drew closer, Vin had noticed that one eye had been almost swollen shut, the gash across the cheek bone surrounded by mottled bruising, although it was hard to distinguish as both eyes had seemed so deep set through dehydration.

The streaks of dried blood between Chris's lean thighs told another story, one of sexual abuse, but worse than any of this was the fact that Chris had been so still. Deathly still.

When he entered that line shack his breath had caught in horror, his blood pooling at the bottom of his suddenly stilled heart, certain in the belief that he had found Chris too late. His heart had only started to beat again when he saw the slight, but too rapid, rise and fall of the bruised chest. Vin had raced across the room and dropped down beside Chris, overjoyed at the weak but positive response he had gained when Chris realized he was there. Vin's fingers had barely registered the tacky feel to the stiff strands of hair, nor had he reacted to the strong smell of urine, assuming it was coming from the used bedpan lying beside the filthy bed.

In hindsight he recognized all the signs of abuse; mental, physical and sexual, and could hardly believe that so much damage could be caused in such a short space of time. Could it really have been less than 48 hours from the time Chris had placed that call to the tow-truck company to the time they had found him?

Vin stopped thinking about the horrors of the recent past and took a couple of steps forward, moving closer to the hospital bed. He stared down at the sleeping figure. A hospital gown now covered the bruised body but Vin could still see the damaged cheek and the sore, cracked lips and yet, at this moment, Chris had never been a more beautiful sight to Vin. The dark blond hair shone like a halo with flyaway, silky strands feathering the soft pillow - like a fallen angel.

It was hard to believe that the visible damage had been superficial, and if it were not for the serious dehydration, the doctor would have let Chris go home. Vin's eyes traveled the length of the tubing from the half-empty bag suspended high above to the white surgical tape that held the needle in place in the pale, inner arm. The nurse had said this was the last bag, that the drip would be removed once this current bag had emptied. Vin was pleased for Chris; he knew from experience how much those things irritated, especially if you moved your arm unintentionally.

A slight noise in the corridor beyond brought his attention back to his surroundings and he hoped it was not more of those reporters trying to gain access to Chris. In addition, he knew he should not be here, knew that visiting hours had ended some time ago but he could not sleep, needing to reassure himself that Chris *was* safe.

Chris murmured softly, and with a start, Vin realized Chris was calling his name.

"I'm here, Cowboy."

Vin sank to the seat by the bed and picked up one slender hand, curling his fingers around Chris's, holding the hand with just the right amount of pressure to reassure but not hurt the delicate flesh. Chris had never seemed so fragile to him as he did at this moment. All sign of the self-assured leader was missing, leaving this vulnerable, childlike figure in his place.

Vin smiled, wondering if Chris always looked so childlike when he slept, secretly hoping a time would come when he would be able to check it out for himself - every night. He swallowed hard; his hope turning to ashes in his mouth as he dwelt on Chris's other injuries.

Chris had been raped. Chances were Chris would never allow another man to touch him intimately again - any man - not even him. He found himself whispering softly to the quiet man, one hand still holding Chris's, the other stroking through the silky strands of corn-gold hair.

"Wish I knew the right words to say to ya, Chris. Wish I knew how I could convince ya that it don't have to be that way. That being with another man don't have to mean pain and fear."

Vin paused, the nerve endings on his fingers having finally gained his attention, and he realized the difference in the blond hair from then and now. It was so soft, with the slight fragrance of peaches, so different from the stiffened peaks of dull, matted hair he had felt hours earlier, but beneath the shampoo was still the unique, addictive scent of Chris.

"Ya smell good, Chris. So good I wish I could taste ya. I love ya, Chris... and I wish I could make love to ya."

"I'm awake, Vin."

Vin jumped back, dropping Chris's hand from his own in shock, almost falling off his seat.

"Shoot, Chris. I never... I mean... damn... Stupid! Real Stupid! I'm sorry... 'Spect you'd rather I went, I'll go... get Buck..."

"Vin." Chris frowned as Vin backed towards the door, he yelled out more forcibly, "VIN!", grimacing at the extra abuse to his still dry throat.

Vin froze on the threshold, heart in his mouth, almost shaking from self-anger. It was so stupid of him to just assume that sedated meant deeply asleep. He shook his head, wondering at his own stupidity in allowing his mouth to open before checking that Chris was asleep rather than resting quietly, though why Chris didn't bother to acknowledge his presence earlier...

"Vin."

Those green eyes locked onto his, interrupting his internal tirade but, surprisingly, there was no anger and no disgust in that gaze despite the seriousness of Chris's expression. Chris beckoned him to return to the bedside and watched as he resumed his seat.

"How long?"

Vin sighed and slouched in the seat, his hands raking through his hair as he tried to order his thoughts.

"How long have I wanted ya? Reckon that must be from the first moment I set eyes on ya. Always known I preferred men, and I liked your looks from the start. Who wouldn't?"

His last few words came out at a whisper but Vin noticed the heated red that tinged the pale unblemished cheek before Chris turned away, however, he also saw another look come into those smoky green eyes, one of despair. He cursed himself, inwardly, wondering if Clayton Jones had used similar words - wondering if it was the same vision of this gorgeous man that had stirred Jones's sadistic lust.

"How long have I known it was love?" Vin waited for Chris to look at him again, his eyes searching their green counterparts, relying more than ever on that strange link between them. "Don't know. Just snuck up all quiet like 'til one day I just knew it."

Vin found himself licking his lower lip in that unconscious nervous gesture that Buck had pointed out to him a few weeks back, but now he knew about the habit he would catch himself in the act. He scrubbed his hand across his lips and waited for some response from Chris but this was one of those times when he found his nervousness outpacing his patience. The minutes dragged by and Vin felt his heart slowly breaking as the silence seemed to deepen at a time when he needed words. He came to a decision, deciding to break the silence himself but the soft, husky voice caught at him.

"Don't know what to say, Vin. Thought I knew you... thought I knew myself.... until this happened." The green eyes bored into his, and Vin could see a desperate pleading in their depths. "Need time, Vin. Need to straighten out my own head before..."

Vin swallowed hard unsure whether to be grateful or despairing for Chris had not outwardly denied having any feelings for him in return, but then, he hadn't acknowledged having anything more than friendship towards Vin either.

"I can give ya time... but now we raised this I ain't gonna just let it drop forever."

Chris seemed to understand the warning, nodding slowly in agreement before his eyes drifted closed, ending the tense conversation.

"Ya need to sleep, Chris. I'll go--"

"NO." The eyes opened wide, focusing deeply on Vin. His voice softened to almost a whisper. "No. Don't go."

Vin pursed his lips tight, forcing back the anguish he felt at the fearful plea. He settled back into the seat and gave Chris a small smile.

"I'll stay. Wild horses couldn't drag me away if ya want me to stay. Ya get some sleep now. I'll watch yer back."

-ooOOoo-

Chris awoke to the clatter of a trolley passing outside his room, half expecting to find himself alone but, instead, his eyes fell into the sky blue depths of Vin Tanner. He managed a weak smile, part of him alive with the pleasure of knowing Vin had kept his word and stayed with him, another part afraid of the confession Vin had made to him last night.

Last night he had lain with his eyes closed for quite some time before sleep finally claimed him, his thoughts churning as he considered Vin's words and his own unexpressed feelings.

Everything had been so simple when he lay dying in that hovel but now it was so confused with images of Vin twisted within his memories of Clayton Jones. The beautiful mouth worshiping his body dissolved into the obscenity of Jones's unwanted, harsh licks and bites. The lean fingers stroking into his body became the hooked claws of that monster. The warm perspiration dripping onto his own flesh turned into the cold sweat of fear and loathing as a slap around the face pulled his mind away from his futile attempt to escape into Vin's phantom embrace.

Other memories assailed him, tainted by his own sense of guilt as he recalled the way he had used Vin's image to force a reaction from his own body, but Vin's pleasure-filled blue eyes had faded into the fear-filled ones of a stranger as Chris's unwelcome climax had overtaken him.

More guilt flowed over him.

He could still feel the fullness, his body stretched around the thick invading flesh, writhing in agony against the burning pain in his ass as he was taken forcibly, and yet, strangely, he wanted to feel that fullness again, wanted to be held and plundered - but not by Jones.

"Does it always hurt?"

Chris saw confusion cross Vin's face and bit his lower lip, wishing he hadn't said anything aloud, not wanting to have to explain his question or why he needed to know the answer. A stab of relief flowed through him when understanding came to those blue eyes. He watched as Vin shook his head before answering.

"No. Not always. Maybe at little bit at first... but any good lover would stop, wait 'til any pain had gone afore... and there's a heap of pleasure in being taken, if your lover takes the time to make ya ready." Vin paused and sighed deeply. "Look Chris, I ain't so good with words. I cain't describe how it feels with words, but what I do know is, what... what *he* did weren't about making love or even 'bout having good sex. He was about taking 'stead of giving. It was about power and control--"

A knock at the door put a halt to any further discussion and Chris wasn't certain if he was pleased about that or not. He expected to see a nurse enter and found himself freezing in shock when Matt entered the room. Matt held up a hand in uncertainty, his voice husky with caution.

"Hi."

Chris looked into the apprehensive face, his memory returning to the fear-filled time when those cracked lips had been wrapped around his unresponsive flesh, remembering the desperate words that had coerced him into betraying not only himself but Vin as well.

"Matt. How're you feeling?"

"Fine. They wanted me to stay in another day, but I wanted to go home. My wife's waiting outside but I needed to see..." Matt stalled, his expression softening. "Are you okay?"

Chris nodded even though he knew it was a lie. Nothing was okay. Everything was a mess, everything was fucked up - from his body to his head. He saw Matt eyeing Vin, surreptitiously.

"This is Vin Tanner - a friend."

"Vin."

Chris saw knowledge fill the bright eyes and knew Matt remembered the quiet words spoken in the dark. He found himself saying a silent prayer that Matt wouldn't inadvertently blurt out Chris's guilty secret; of the way he had used Vin's image, of the way he had dreamed of Vin's touch.

He thought everything had been resolved during those long hours, thought he understood his own feelings - and Vin's - but now he realized he still needed time to figure out what it all meant. He needed time to explore these feelings for Vin that he had discovered within himself, needed time to dwell on the consequences of acting upon them before he acknowledged them to the world - or, at least, to Vin.

He knew part of the problem was that he had not expected to live. Surviving his abduction, and the ordeal that followed, had complicated everything.

Matt fell silent but gave Chris a reassuring smile and Chris knew his secret was safe - for now.

"Networks are begging me for my story. Offered a fair sum... and I'm gonna take 'em up on it... but I wanted ya to know, I ain't gonna share everything. There're some things I'm gonna keep to myself."

Chris frowned, not quite sure whether this was a warning that Matt was going to expose the forced fellatio or whether he was intimating that this incident would remain just between them. Whatever Matt decided to do, Chris knew he had no way of stopping him but if it was the former then he appreciated the warning. If his friends had to learn what he had done to survive then he would rather they found out from him than from some Network special. He nodded his head.

"Appreciate the warning."

"Yeah... Look... I'd like to get together some time... to talk about--"

"Sure... maybe." Chris realized his answer was a little terse and saw a flash of pain pass across Matt's face. "I think we need to give ourselves a little time... and distance first."

Matt produced a small answering smile, some of the pain lifting from his still sunken features. Chris's eyes flicked over to where Vin was sitting in silence but Chris could tell something was bothering Vin from the way he chewed on his lower lip. Matt slipped back out the door leaving them alone and Chris waited for the expected barrage of questions, unsure what he was going to say in response. The silence lengthened.

"Ain't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what, Chris?"

"About what happened at the shack."

"Ain't my business unless you want me to know."

"Easy as that."

"Yep. But just remember, if you ever wanna tell someone... I'll be here for you."

Chris felt even more guilt flow over him, knowing it was the truth and hating himself for not being able to pour his heart out. He knew he should talk to Vin, to Matt - to *someone* - but it was all too soon. At least, that's what he told himself.

-ooOOoo-

"Soon be home, Chris. And I got a surprise waiting for ya there."

Chris looked out of the passenger window in shock as Buck took the familiar turning off the interstate onto the track that led up to his ranch. Most of the journey was a blur to him and yet he felt nothing that would indicate he had slept away the time. These time lapses bothered him. He'd had the same problem after Sarah and Adam died and they had been explained away as some form of delayed shock.

Am I in shock?

It seemed so strange to have to ask himself that question. He frowned as he tried to recall the words of the shrink the department had insisted he see at that time but nothing sprang to mind that seemed at all relevant to the here and now.

The last few miles passed quickly, the features so familiar and yet he felt as if he were watching the world go by through someone else's eyes. He felt so strange, so eerily calm, like he was the eye of a hurricane, watching the rest of his emotions spinning and crashing around his head. They turned in to the drive leading up to the ranch house and Buck slowed down slightly, a grin spreading across his face, his eyes flicking towards Chris as if expecting some wondrous reaction.

"Stop the car!" Chris snarled, his eyes burning into Buck's in barely restrained anger.

"What the..? Chris..?"

"Just stop the fucking car."

Buck jammed on the brakes, his face full of confusion and fear when Chris shoved open the passenger door and hurled himself out of the still-moving car. The full fury of the storm had swallowed the calm center, the blackness of rage engulfing him as his eyes fell upon the silent sentinel standing alone just to the side of the house. The blood was pounding in his veins, his breath racing as he reached his target and let loose a stream of abuse and kicks.

"You piece of shit!"

Strong arms wrapped themselves around him, hauling him away but Chris struggled free, his fury adding to his strength. His hands and feet battered upon the black metal, leaving small dents and dirty prints in their path. New arms grabbed at him, stronger arms than Buck's and a soft, soothing drawl called him back from the edge of the dark abyss. Chris felt himself sag back into the powerful embrace. The fury spent, leaving his voice hoarse and broken.

"Fucking... piece of... shit."

Josiah held onto the smaller man, riding out the storm and silently cursing himself. He should have seen that coming; he was the one with the psychology degree after all. He looked up over the head of the man silently sobbing in his arms and glared at the now slightly battered Ram, its once gleaming paintwork dented and marred by dirty boot and fist imprints. A glance towards the house revealed Vin standing near the door, a shocked and heart-broken expression on his face. Josiah knew that Vin wished he was the one comforting his friend but he also knew Vin was wise enough to know that this was one occasion when Josiah's strength was needed. Another glance around showed that Buck was still standing near by, one hand on his head, fingers raking through the short strands as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Josiah looked, once more, at the object of Buck's attention, the object of Chris's attack - the black Dodge Ram - and shook his head.

"Let's go into the house, Chris."

Josiah resisted the urge to carry Chris, knowing he would gain no thanks and only add to the embarrassment that Chris would be feeling once he recovered his equilibrium. Instead, he gently supported Chris, guiding his footsteps into the house and through it to the main bedroom. Josiah had seen enough in his life to understand how tired Chris would be feeling after such a powerful rage, so he made no fuss and simply undressed Chris down to his underwear then placed him in his bed. He pulled the covers up then closed the curtains to block out the sunlight. When he reached the threshold and started to pull the door closed behind him, Josiah heard a soft voice, muffled by covers.

"Thanks, Josiah."

"You're welcome, Chris."

-ooOOoo-

When Josiah reached the kitchen he found two very distraught men seated side by side at the breakfast bar, staring off into space. Josiah moved purposefully towards one cupboard and pulled out three mugs. He poured coffee into each and set one down in front of each man. Josiah gave a deep sigh as he sank down opposite them.

"Thought he loved that truck. Thought he'd be pleased as punch to see it standing there all gleaming like new. How could I be so stupid? I shoulda known. Damn truck let him down... put him into that situation."

"Not your fault, Buck. I should have seen that coming."

"No good any of us blaming ourselves. Least now we know there's a storm brewing in that hard head of his. Reckoned he seemed to be taking it too well."

"Delayed shock." Josiah looked up from his mug and stared at each man in turn. "Need to know, Buck. How open was he when his family were murdered?"

"Open." Buck snorted. "Not a word I'd associate with Chris at the best of times."

"Hmm... figured you'd say that." Josiah grinned. "It's lucky we got a levering tool this time around." Vin frowned as Josiah focused his grin upon him but Josiah sobered quickly. "Ain't gonna be easy, Vin, and it ain't gonna be pretty at times."

Vin nodded and Josiah could almost see the weight of responsibility settle on those lean shoulders, but he knew it was a burden Vin would willingly carry.

"What'll we do about the Ram?"

Josiah steepled his fingers then pressed them against his pursed his lips. "You leave it be. No point hiding it away, denying its existence... and I'd rather he kicked the hell out of a lump of metal than one of us."

"So what's the game plan, Josiah?"

"Not got one... but getting him to open up and talk about what happened would be the best way forward."

"He's got over a month's leave stored up. I reckon I can persuade the Judge to make him take it. What about you, Vin? Never seen ya take any time off so ya must have plenty of time owing."

Josiah smiled to himself, realizing how Buck just assumed Vin would use up any available leave and spend it caring for Chris but, equally, it was obvious from Vin's expression that he had never had any intention of doing otherwise.

"Yep. Reckon I can match Chris day for day."

"Ya know, I'd do this myself, Vin, but he didn't want me around last time... when Sarah and Adam... He's my best friend but I ain't what he needs at times like these."

Josiah reached over and placed one large hand over Buck's.

"He needs you just fine, Buck. He needed you then. He needs you now. But there are different kinds of need and different ways of meeting that need."

Buck nodded his head and Josiah hoped he had allayed Buck's feelings of failure. It had never occurred to him before that Buck might also be in need of some counseling, and he decided that a long session at Inez's bar might be in order.

"I reckon it's time to head back, leave these boys alone. I hear a bottle of tequila calling my name... thought I heard it calling yours too, Buck."

Buck grinned, his irrepressible nature coming to the fore. "Sounds like a plan to me, Josiah."

-ooOOoo-

When he awoke the sun was just passed its peak with the early afternoon light piercing the room through cracks between the curtains. One such stripe had fallen across his eyes when he shifted position and had brought him back from his deep sleep. Chris was confused for a moment until he realized he was tucked up in his own bed. Home. He blinked a few times, just to be on the safe-side, just to ensure this was not some dream he had yet to awaken from and find himself catapulted back into the nightmare of Clayton Jones. Gingerly, Chris swept back the cover and sat up. He was in his underwear and could vaguely remember being undressed by Josiah. His eyes widened as other memories returned. Chris dropped his head into his hands in shame as he recalled his loss of control on seeing the Ram sitting there on the drive, looking all clean and immaculate as if it had nothing to do with the horror of the past week.

Small sounds drifted along the corridor; the splashing of water in a bowl, the squeak of that damn faucet he'd meant to fix. He drifted along the corridor like a wraith, his bare feet making no sound. The kitchen door was open and Chris saw a familiar figure moving around: Vin. He listened carefully but the ranch house had a silence about it that spoke of there being only Vin and himself within its walls. Chris breathed a quiet sigh of relief that he would not have to face Josiah or Buck just yet. He carried on forward but his steps faltered near the threshold when he realized he was not yet ready to face anyone - not even Vin.

He looked down at himself and knew that what he needed right now was to feel clean. The nurse had given him a sponge bath while at the hospital, washing away the disgusting smell and stickiness of urine from his hair, wiping away the blood and sweat, but he needed more than that. He shuffled quietly back towards the bathroom, feeling decidedly unsteady on his feet.

Christ! I feel like an old man!

Once inside he avoided looking in the mirror, suddenly afraid to see his own reflection. He shrugged out of his T-shirt and boxers, leaving them in an untidy pile in the center of the floor and reached in to turn on the shower faucet to a hot but gentle flow. It took only a few moments for the water to reach the desired temperature and Chris sighed in heart-felt relief as the comfortably hot water flowed over his aching body. He tilted his head up and let the water cascade over his face, feeling it trickle like fingers through his hair. With eyes closed, he reached out blindly for the all-over shower gel that hung on a hook attached to tiled wall, squirting a generous amount into his hands before rubbing his fingers against his scalp, massaging deeply in circling motions until his hair was standing up in soapy spikes. He let his soapy fingers drift over his face lightly, hissing at the discomfort of even the lightest pressure on the swollen cheek and eye. He opened his eyes and squirted more gel into his palm. With careful strokes he slowly covered every inch of himself, allowing his hands to circle over his bruised flesh, grimacing when he applied too much pressure on some areas.

His mind cataloged the bruising, drifting back to the cause of each livid mark that marred his flesh. He found other tender places by touch alone; an ache in the crevice between his ass cheeks, a larger sore area over one ass cheek.

His hands gradually moved down his thighs and he frowned at the small green and purple oval shaped bruises on the soft skin of his inner thighs, then realized they were finger shapes from where Jones had forced his thighs wider apart just before he...

Chris halted that thought, letting his mind drift away before the image of the straining, grunting face of his rapist came back to haunt him. He sank onto the tiled floor, his legs too tired to keep him standing any longer, and let his hands slide down his calves. More bruises were wrapped around them, images of Jones holding his legs tightly as he attached the shackles that had left a circle of purple and green around each leg like an elaborate anklet. His gaze went to the matching set of skin-deep bracelets.

Chris hissed when the temperature plummeted, goose bumps forming quickly on his flesh as the water-cooled. He pushed himself to his feet and closed off the faucet, trembling with cold as he pulled aside the shower screen and stepped out into the steam-filled bathroom, all the time wondering why the water had turned cold so quickly. There was usually plenty of hot water in the tank for a generous shower. The trembling faded as the warmth of the steamy air seeped into his flesh. Chris rubbed a hand over his chin and unblemished cheek, feeling the day's growth of stubble. He pulled his shaving gear out of the cabinet and filled the wash basin with hot water.

With the side of one hand, Chris swiped across the steamed-up mirror and found himself gazing into a so familiar and yet alien face. One eye seemed like a huge pool of green while the other appeared almost invisible except for the merest sliver. The split on his cheek was an angry red, surrounded by mottled blue and green that had puffed up the flesh from eyebrow to just below the cheekbone.

"What a shiner!"

He was about to slap on some lather for his shave when he caught sight of movement behind him, reflected in the still misty mirror. Chris's good eye swept up and recognized the figure. He turned slowly to face Vin.

Vin schooled his face to hide the shock of seeing Chris standing naked in the bathroom but, although part of him was aroused, the horror wilted his erection instantly. When he had found Chris shackled to that dirty bed at the line shack, huddled close to another naked, emaciated figure, his mind had been unable to catalog the true extent of Chris's injuries. Chris's back was covered in what had to be boot prints and he could almost visualize Chris curled up in the fetal position while that madman lay blow upon blow on his defenseless, prone body. However, it was the imprint of a hand on one ass cheek, and the pressure marks of fingers on the hips, calves and inner thighs, that brought home the reality of what had been done to this man that he loved.

Chris had turned, revealing more of the abuse his body had taken.

Vin could not help the twitch of his jaw as he remembered the malicious smile on the face of the man who had done this to Chris. He wished again that Jones had lived just so that he could have the pleasure of killing him.

"I called... but you didn't answer. Thought I'd check you were okay."

"I'm fine, Vin. Just took a shower, wanted to clean up some."

Vin eyed Chris surreptitiously but could see no evidence of Chris attempting any form of self-mutilation. It was one of those things Josiah had mentioned watching out for although it didn't always happen. Vin remembered listening to Josiah's deep, serious voice explaining how some rape victims wanted to scrub away the touch of the rapist, and ended up rubbing their skin raw or even, in worse cases, trying to slice off their own flesh. Vin tried not to show how annoyed he was - at himself - for not having noticed Chris had gone into the bathroom, and when he had gained no response to his call, he had been filled with dread. He sighed... and all that fear for nothing.

"Need any help?"

"Ain't a cripple, Vin. Just a little beat up is all."

"Okay. Then I'll leave you to shave. I've got a pot of coffee freshly made, and I reckon ya could do with some food inside ya. Looking so skinny I could count your ribs from here."

Chris gave him a half-hearted twitch of a smile and Vin could tell he wasn't sure whether to be annoyed at the fussing or pleased that someone cared. With a grin of his own, Vin gave Chris a slight nod then turned and left the bathroom.

As he waited in the kitchen for Chris to make an appearance, he let his mind dwell on the beautiful but marred body, seeing again the livid bruising standing stark against the pale skin. His tracker's mind measured the size of the hand print and realized Jones had not been much bigger than Buck, and certainly not a bear of a man like Josiah. Still, he had a heavier frame than Chris, and had not been as lean. Vin pulled back from his thoughts of Clayton Jones with a start as he realized he was thinking of Jones as if he were some sort of love rival for Chris.

Perhaps he is?

Vin sighed. Some how he knew he had to ease, or erase, the memory of that man's touch from Chris's mind or there would never be a chance for him with Chris. His mind supplied one way to do it, but Vin sneered.

"Yeah. As if Chris is gonna let any man touch him after..."

He took another swallow of the coffee from the mug he had set out before himself earlier and grimaced as the bitter liquid hit his empty stomach. It became apparent that Chris was not the only one who needed some food as it occurred to Vin that he had not eaten since this time the day before. Vin pushed himself off the bar stool and moved into the kitchen area, opening the refrigerator and pulling out various items that Josiah and Buck had brought up to the ranch yesterday. Within minutes he had a fairly decent omelet in the making.

"Smells good."

Vin smiled. This time he had heard the approaching footsteps so the softly spoken words had not startled him. He noticed the baggy T-shirt and sweatpants hanging off the lean frame, realizing how anything tighter would rub against the bruises. Without a word, Vin slid half the omelet onto a plate and pushed it across the bar towards Chris. He watched, in his peripheral vision, as Chris lowered himself, gingerly, onto the barstool that Vin had vacated earlier. Vin placed some cutlery in front of him.

"Dig in. I'll pour ya some coffee."

They ate in silence, but it was not the companionable silence of the past. There was an underlying edge of tension, of hidden words that needed to be spoken aloud. The sound of a low flying helicopter banking over the ranch cut through the silence. The green eyes held Vin's for a moment, and Vin could read dread in that look. He padded over to the kitchen window and gazed up, catching sight of the helicopter, his sharp eyes making out the network logo, and he found his lips tightening into a thin line. The six members of the team had managed to keep the press well away from their friend and leader while at the hospital but they all knew that, sooner or later, the networks would track Chris down. Vin sighed. Perhaps it was better here, where they could keep out of sight for the most part, rather than in the hospital where every new face was a potential problem.

"Looks like the network has found you, Chris. But it's nothing a missile launcher won't solve. Damn Vultures."

Vin frowned as the blood fled from Chris's face leaving him ashen. He watched as Chris swallowed hard, those deep pools of green filled with unease, sliding away from his own gaze.

"Chris?"

"Need to tell you something, Vin... before you learn from some place else."

The lifting of those eyes towards the window made Vin realize where that unwanted information might come from. He recalled the words Matt had spoken in Chris's hospital room two days before and wondered if Chris's dark secret was already public knowledge. Vin sat back down and waited patiently, knowing Chris would start once he got his thoughts collected.

"It's about Matt... and Jones."

"I'm listening."

Chris cleared his throat.

"I let Matt... I let Matt... Shit!"

Chris scrubbed his hands through his hair as he tried to find the right phrase to describe what he had let Matt do. Vin felt his heart breaking from the look of anguish that had spread across the bruised and swollen face, but then Chris's expression hardened, all emotion draining away as he looked Vin straight in the eye.

"I let him suck me off."

Vin waited silently and saw Chris start to frown, recognizing it by the deepening of the two lines either side of the bridge of Chris's nose. Those lines were a little uneven for once but Vin knew it was because of the swelling around one eye. The silence lengthened with Vin remaining silent and almost impassive.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Ain't gonna judge you, Chris. I weren't there when you needed me. I know you did what you had to do to get out of there alive, and for that I'm thankful... but that ain't all of it, is it?"

Chris looked away and Vin was tempted to reach across the counter and pull the battered face back to meet his own but, instead, he clenched his fists on his lap, hidden beneath the counter top, and waited.

"I didn't want to... couldn't at first but... it was either Matt or having Jones take me again. Reckoned it was better to let Jones get his pleasure out of watching than doing."

Vin let the softly spoken words roll around his head, until he realized what had caught his attention subconsciously.

"What happened when you couldn't? How d'you make yourself?"

The ashen face gave way to a deep shade of red as blood surged into the pale cheeks and Vin knew they had arrived at the true reason for all the evasiveness and anguish. He strained to hear the whispered words.

"Pretended it was you."

Vin realized Chris thought he ought to be shocked but, instead, Vin felt a pleasant warmth flood through him as he savoured the idea that Chris had turned to him in his moment of need.

"Then it was me, cowboy."

Chris looked up, the un-swollen eye wide in startlement.

"You're not disgusted at me... that I could... turn that rapist into you?"

"Matt raped ya?"

"NO! I meant Jones..."

Chris swore softly under his breath as he realized what he had just revealed, unwittingly, to Vin. He screwed his eyes tightly closed to avoid seeing the disgust he was certain would be there on Vin's face now.

"You pretended it was me taking you... instead of that bastard."

Vin leaned over and let his hands drop onto Chris's whitened knuckles.

"Ain't disgusted with ya, Chris. I'm... that you'd use me as a your safe place. Ain't gonna read anything else into it, Chris. Not less you tell me to... but I ain't disgusted and I ain't mad at you for doing it. Fact is, I'm glad I was there for you."

The sound of the helicopter's rotors beating the air, coming closer still brought the quiet moment of revelation to an end.

"Reckon we should switch on the TV and check out what this Matt has been saying."

Vin waited until he had Chris's agreement before switching on the small set placed at the end of the breakfast bar.

"--As another two bodies are uncovered at the old abandoned line shack, the Press has dubbed Clayton Jones as the I25 Killer. This brings the total number of bodies found so far to five and the FBI are looking into the possibility of there being more victims--"

Details of the victims who had been identified were displayed on the screen, the dates going back through almost half a decade although no-one was willing to cite a cause of death for any of those earlier victims.

"Thought he only started this when his mother died. She supposedly stepped out onto the highway and got herself hit by a car, but it sure looks like he was already abducting and killing people long before."

"--Our on-location reporter, Clara Mayall, is hovering over the ranch home of Jones's final abductee, Christopher Larabee, one of only two victims to survive the clutches of the I25 Killer. Clara? Can you see anything?--"

An aerial shot of the ranch came onto the TV screen, and Chris and Vin found their attention focused on the screen.

"This is Clara Mayall. We were only recently informed that Christopher Larabee was released from the hospital early this morning. We thought we detected movement inside the house just a few moments ago--"

The shot on the screen changed to a close up of the kitchen window where a figure was seen peering up into the sky momentarily before moving out of sight. Vin recognized himself even though the image was blurred. He tightened his lips in annoyance.

"Damn reporters! Ain't got no right to harass you, Chris."

"--in the meantime, we have exclusive photographs of the injuries sustained showing the brutality--"

Vin cussed vehemently when photographs showing Chris's injuries appeared on the screen. These photos had been taken as evidence and were supposed to be confidential, but it was obvious that someone had stolen copies and sent them to the network. Picture after picture was displayed, a visual catalog of all that had been done to Chris that was supplemented by comments from a tame forensic specialist.

"--on this picture we can see the oval pressure points of thumb and finger pads curled over the hip bone, indicating that the victim was on his back and being gripped tightly--"

Vin switched off the TV in disgust but his anger dissipated as soon as his heated gaze fell upon the forlorn figure. Vin ran one hand through his long, tangled locks and sighed deeply.

"Damn ghouls!"

The ringing of the phone caught their attention but Vin grabbed it before Chris, half-expecting it to be someone from the network and fully prepared to send his own laconic brand of vitriol to the caller's ear.

"Buck! Yeah... we just caught some... No, must have missed that... Yeah, I'll tell him... Sure."

Vin replaced the phone in its cradle and gave Chris a resigned look.

"They've already arrested the person who supplied the Network with those photos." Vin eyed Chris carefully, unsure of how much more Chris could take today. "Seems Matthew Johnson's started giving interviews. Said a lot about his own captivity but nothing about you 'cept for those last days after Jones shackled you both together and left."

"He weren't there when Jones took me into the shack. And he never saw Jones..."

The words petered out but Vin nodded, the unspoken words twisting inside Vin's head but Vin could not help but feel some respect for Matt creeping in. It must have been obvious what had been done to Chris and yet Matt had made no mention of either that or the later sexual act that had been forced between them.

"This'll all be yesterday's news soon enough. Just have to wait it out."

"Ya don't have to stay here, Vin. Don't need no babysitter."

"Ain't here to baby-sit ya, Chris. I'm here to keep them vultures off your hide." Vin nodded towards the sound of the still circling helicopter. "'Sides that, I wanna be here with ya, Chris. I need to be here."

-ooOOoo-

Looking in the mirror it was hard to see anything different about himself. Two weeks had passed and only a yellowing of the skin and a faint scar remained as a reminder of the heavy bruising on his face. His eyes had lost that sunken look, partially due to Vin's cajoling. Vin had stayed with him all this time, despite several nasty scenes where he had tried to throw his friend out, and Chris smiled. He doubted anyone else could have put up with him over these past two weeks, giving back as much as Chris gave, but without compromising their friendship.

Vin must have been hurt by some of the things he had said to him, and yet the man had remained by his side, ever faithful, enticing him to eat and stopping him from drowning in self-torment. They had even managed to talk on a few occasions. Nothing major, just small prods at the raw wounds that had produced a healing rather than a reopening of those harrowing memories.

As he looked deep into his own eyes, reflecting back from the mirror, Chris wondered at the relative ease by which he had come to terms with most of what had happened to him. He knew there would be times when the memory might overcome him, days when something would trigger the fear, but not of the rape itself. Chris was astute enough to realize that most of his discomfort lay with the knowledge that, if it *had* been Vin inside him then he might even have enjoyed the act. His fear lay with the total loss of control as an unwanted stranger made use of him; the helplessness of his situation, unable to defend himself, not even able to cry out because of the duct tape sealing his mouth.

He no longer felt any physical pain from the assault, just a twinge of discomfort now and then if he over stretched a muscle or pushed himself too hard. All in all, he had come out of his ordeal relatively unscathed. The same could not be said about the majority of Jones's other victims whose bodies had been exhumed from their pitiful graves and returned to their families for decent burial.

He had endured a week of reporters badgering him, even going so far as to congregate just outside his property with their vans and microphones, surging on anyone who approached. One network reporter had even ventured to his front door but Vin was there to turn him away. However, just as Vin had promised, his abduction quickly became old news as the country fell into turmoil over the presidential election disaster. He had never been so grateful to Florida as he was now.

"You okay, Chris?"

Chris met Vin's deep blue eyes in the mirror, seeing the concern within them. He gave Vin a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, Vin."

"Look like a man with questions on his mind."

Chris turned and faced his friend.

"You remember that couple in town? Outside the grocery store."

Vin frowned. They had made their first trip off the ranch earlier today, heading into the nearby town to pick up supplies. They could have asked one of the others to do it but Chris had insisted that it was time he stopped hiding. Coming out of the grocery store, laden down with a couple of brown sacks apiece filled with provisions, Chris had stopped dead in his tracks to stare at a couple of men walking down the street on the opposite side of the pavement. Vin smiled in remembrance. It was perfectly obvious that these two men were more than just friends by the way they laughed and chatted, touching often, a brush of hand or hip. To Vin it was an every day sight, but he had felt a pang of jealousy at their easy but intimate relationship, wishing he could enjoy the same with Chris.

"Yeah. I remember."

Chris narrowed his eyes at the distant look of longing that filled Vin's expression momentarily. He remembered that, after seeing those men, Vin had been a little abrupt, turning away to head back to the battered jeep, but Chris's eyes had continued to linger on the two men. He watched as they stopped and gave each other a quick hug, mouths grazing in a show of intimacy and affection. There was no awkwardness in their display, no fear of the close contact apparent in their body language. It was like seeing any couple in love.

In love?

It amazed him that he had not recognized the depth of emotion between the two any earlier. Could he and Vin ever be that way? Is this what Vin wanted? Is this the reason Vin seemed a little jealous of those two men?

Could I want that too?

Chris looked closer at Vin, really close, his eyes roving over the angular planes of the squarer yet still sensitive features. He had never really considered how handsome Vin was; the beauty of eyes that were as bright and blue as the sky on a hot summer's day, the mouth that seemed to beg to be kissed. Although Vin was shy by nature, he had always seemed comfortable enough in Chris's presence to strip off so Chris knew exactly what the slim body looked like beneath the layers of clothing. It was lean, like his own; well toned without being overly muscular - and smooth with slightly Latino coloring. In comparison, Chris knew his own skin was very fair; an ivory to Vin's pale golden hue.

Chris had looked at other men before; to size up a threat, a competitor.. or even just to admire for the power or magnetism they exuded with every movement, every breath, but he'd never truly considered bedding another man before, or allowing another man to know him so intimately.

Only Vin.

Chris was startled when warm fingers wrapped around his own. He had not realized he had been reaching out to Vin. His first impulse was to pull his hand away but the long, slim fingers holding firmly to his own were sending shocks of electricity through him.

Vin took a firm step forward, reaching out with his other hand to push an errant lock of hair back from where it had flopped over Chris's eyes before tilting up Chris's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Vin felt his heartbeat falter then start to race as he was seared by the fiery heat of passion that had reduced the green to a mere corona around the enlarged pupils. With a movement so slow that it felt as if an eternity passed, he breached the distance between them and pressed his lips against the slightly parted ones of the man he loved. Vin felt the escape of a single, soft breath as Chris sighed in willing acceptance, and Vin slowly increased the pressure, luxuriating in the feel of the warm lips, soft and yielding beneath his own. He drew back, staring into Chris's face with a gentle inquiry on his own, wanting to assure himself that Chris was comfortable with this first kiss. Chris had reached up to touch his own mouth, looking a little confused and yet surprised too, but then his expression hardened.

"I'm sorry, Vin. I can't do this. Not yet. It hurt when he took... I can't do that..."

Vin frowned, the faltering words suddenly making sense.

"You don't have to. That ain't the whole deal, Chris. I know plenty of men who've never let another man take 'em - and they don't intend to neither." Vin held on tighter to the hand that was still clasped within his own, drawing Chris closer again. He lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "Plenty of ways to satisfy a man without taking." He looked deep in the green eyes, watching as the hardness and fear dissipated. "Let me show you, Chris."

Vin held his breath, wondering whether he had pushed too hard, too soon, but he knew Chris was not a man to back away from a challenge - usually. Vin schooled his features to an easy, relaxed expression while he watched the play of emotions cross the handsome face. Those two vertical frown lines appeared then smoothed away as the internal debate went on, so easily readable to a man who had come to know Chris so well. He knew he had won when Chris leaned forward, brushing his lips gently against Vin's.

Without ever losing physical contact, Vin guided them both into the master bedroom - to Chris's room - even though his own guest room was closer. He wanted Chris to feel safe, understood intrinsically that Chris needed to retain some control over the events that would follow.

With slow, deliberate movements, Vin eased the T-shirt over Chris's head and let it drop to the floor beside the bed, then just as slowly he removed his own. He let his fingers trail over silky skin that was paler than his own, mapping the few freckles by touch alone. His forefinger circled the dusky pink of one nipple, nerve endings enjoying the tingling sensation that spread along his arm, through his own body to spear into his groin, as the skin puckered beneath his touch. The increased trembling and faster breathing of his partner made him smile, knowing his touch was having a similar effect on Chris in sending pulses of warmth flooding downwards. Tentative fingers reached for him and Vin encouraged them by arching forward and brushing his body across them. All the while, his own hands roamed freely over the firm planes of the pectoral then smoothed lower, tracing the edge of the rib cage to the softer abdomen, only halting when they reached the waistband of the boxers.

Chris was becoming more courageous, starting to explore the willing body standing before him and Vin hissed as the fingers raked across his nipple, the sensation sending more of his blood south to fill his slowly swelling shaft. He leaned into Chris, wanting to taste as well as touch, his lips leaving butterfly kisses along the heated flesh of collar bone and shoulder, tongue lapping at the pinprick droplets of perspiration, filling his senses, taste and smell, with the uniqueness that was Chris. Vin nuzzled against the vulnerable throat, nipping at the Adam's apple that bobbed as Chris swallowed, before biting and sucking gently on the soft flesh above the pulsing artery, subconsciously wanting to leave his mark of possession on this man, fleeting though it might be.

Hands roved down Vin's back, sliding down to rest over his cotton-covered flanks. Vin's own hands had mirrored the journey, then moved back to cup each firm ass cheek, pulling Chris hard against his body. He could feel the hardened erection nudging against his own tumescent shaft and ground his hips against Chris, grinning at Chris's moaned gasp of pleasure. Vin sank to his knees, ignoring the hands that tried to keep him upright, his mouth trailing wet kisses down the exposed flesh. Vin flicked an evil grin up at Chris, enjoying the frown that appeared momentarily. He leaned forward and sucked at the hardened shaft through the thin cotton, holding Chris firmly as he bucked uncontrollably at the increased intensity upon his already sensitive flesh.

"Oh God!"

Vin grinned around a mouthful of cotton, aware of how dazed the normally taciturn Chris must be to start vocalizing his pleasure. Vin sucked harder, one hand releasing a firmly rounded ass cheek to fondle the heavy sac through the cotton boxers. He heard a whimper of protest when he finally pulled away but Chris offered no resistance as Vin eased the saliva and precome-soaked boxers over the silken steel shaft. Hands grabbed at Vin's hair, tangling in the curls, when Vin licked from root to head, following the throbbing vein. He teased along the slit, the pointed tip of his tongue dipping into the small hole before pressing against the sensitive bunch of nerve endings. Hands tightened painfully, pulling hard on his hair when Vin opened his mouth to swallow the large head, sucking and licking across the smooth skin, teasing beneath the foreskin. Vin could see the stomach muscles rippling with each suck, could feel the thigh muscles tightening and relaxing rhythmically. His hand moved to glide along the base of the shaft, pumping in unison, letting Chris set the pace as the hips snapped forward. He knew Chris was close, and he wanted to be the one to send Chris spiraling over the edge. A strangled cry heralded Chris's climax and Vin swallowed the bittersweet juices that filled his mouth. He felt Chris's knees buckle and was grateful he had maneuvered them so Chris had the bed behind him.

Before standing, Vin eased Chris's boxers the rest of the way off, dropping them onto the small pile of T-shirts then, after removing his own, he clambered onto the bed and lay down beside Chris. Leaning up on one elbow, Vin smiled into the fully satisfied face, waiting for the glazed expression to clear and hoping the contentment he saw written across the handsome face would last.

Chris's labored breathing gradually slowed and he turned more lucid eyes upon the man who had reduced him to a bundle of sensitive nerve endings. He reached out and touched the softly smiling mouth.

"Reckon you showed me real good, Vin."

Chris looked down at the lightly perspiring frame of his lover.

Lover.

He smiled. The word had a wonderful ring about it, one that sent a pleasant warmth coiling through him from head to toe. He reached out and touched Vin's straining erection, running one finger from base to head. There was a familiarity about touching that was reassuring, so alike his own and yet different enough to offer a new tactile sensation. Chris knew he would not be able to give Vin the same satisfaction this first time, would not be able to use more than his hand to pleasure him but, looking into those warm, loving eyes, he knew it was unimportant. He let his fingers flow over the sensitive flesh, let his mind remind him of the touches he enjoyed during moments of solitary pleasure. All too soon he saw Vin's eyes glaze over and close, his fingers slipping as Vin's hot seed coated his hand, splattering across the taut abdomen.

When Vin's eyes opened, Chris found himself in awe of the love shining from them - for him. He held his gaze, feeling good about himself, about the world, for the first time since the Ram had drifted to a halt on the old highway.

Chris was not foolish enough to presume all his problems were over. He knew there would be times when the memory of what happened would punch him so hard in the gut that it would knock the breath out of him, but he would make it; he knew he would survive as long as Vin stayed by his side.

THE END


End file.
